


The Griffin's Roost

by BloodMoonKitten, Clairacuddles (Clairanette)



Series: Griffin Tales (Cyrus & Liz) [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, BDSM, Blood and Violence, Collars, Corporal Punishment, Dom/sub, Domestic Violence, Dubious Morality, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Figging, Human Trafficking, Hypnotism, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, Master/Pet, Master/Slave, Matron's Handmaiden, Mind Control, Mind Games, Mindfuck, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Sexual Slavery, Physical Abuse, Prostitute, Punishment, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Roughness, Sex Slave, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Spin-Off, Surgery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:53:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27537895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodMoonKitten/pseuds/BloodMoonKitten, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clairanette/pseuds/Clairacuddles
Summary: Cyrus Griffin is the son of a very powerful crime lord, and like his father he has a penchant for conducting some rather questionable business. Cyrus has had his hand in the human trafficking business for a while now, but he's never found a pet that was worthy of being called his own... until now. Amused by an escort he met during the most recent "fishing trip," he begins transforming one lucky young woman into his perfect little pet.-----------------A spin off of Clairanette's "The Matron's Handmaiden" focusing on a couple of side characters~For further context and some excellent kink content, check out Claira's workhere
Relationships: Cyrus Griffin/Elizabeth Griffin
Series: Griffin Tales (Cyrus & Liz) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2128410
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	1. Onesie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Weeee. Okay, so a touch of context. My friend Clairanette is writing this delightful story “The Matron’s Handmaiden” !! And I love it, and she was very kind and basically wrote me a self-insert character of Elizabeth or Liz. :3 I wanted to write a bit about Liz and her husband-Master Cyrus Griffin. This is my first time writing first person in a long time, so hopefully it's alright.
> 
> This chapter takes place many years before Ch. 3 of MH, and so will a fair bit of the story. This is mostly just self-indulgent fun because I fell in love with my friend's world and character concepts. So here we go~
> 
> -Blood Moon

. . Ღ . .

I yawned, rubbing my eyes sleepily. Where was I? What happened again? Mhhm...There was a tall hot guy? I blinked, looking around myself vacantly. Dark grays and blacks were the hue for this room. Black curtains, gray bedding. Black bed frame...Did I go home with a goth man or something? The fuck? When I went to swing my legs off the bed to get up I gasped. Oh. _Ooooh._

My body clenched around what felt like the world’s biggest plug shoved up my ass. I moaned in a rather unpleasant mix of pleasure and pain. Lube was _very much missing_ from this equation. My noises seemed to draw the owner of the bed out of his adjoined bathroom. He was tall, muscular, had stormy blue-gray eyes, and platinum blond hair that was still scruffy from sleep. He smirked at me, hands on his hips. Which just drew my eyes down to his endowment. I wiggled eagerly, enjoying the stretch of the plug while I imagined that monster fucking me open again. Seems the mister was similarly interested in some fun, at least if I judged by the way his cock was half-erect and growing harder.

“Awh, has my little pet woken up?” His voice was pleasantly deep and smooth. Masculine and soothing. I smiled at the flirting and shrugged noncommittally.

“Well. I’m certainly awake. Not so sure about that first part. What exactly happened last night?” I asked with a yawn. I rolled my hips and winked at him. Awake only a minute or two and already ready to play some more. Gods help me. Seeing this, the man grinned and stalked closer. When he was standing before me his large hands gently cupped my cheeks and tilted my head up.

“You, my little street rat, got sold to the highest bidder-- that’s me-- by your pimp. And it seems I didn’t do a very good job wearing out my new toy, did I?” He purred softly, rubbing my cheek. 

I hummed, the memories coming back slowly through the haze. Right...Right. Chris was a piece of fucking dog shit who gave no fucks about his girls. At least I got stuck with a hot guy. Unlike poor Candy. That scar covered bear of a man looked as likely to take a chomp off her head as he did to fuck her. Hopefully she was still alive. I began canvasing the room. Two doors, one he came out of earlier. A bathroom. The other was cracked open into what looked like a hallway. Right. That was my escape. The man patted my cheek, stepped back and gestured for me to get up. With a shrug I complied. My eyes kept moving, picking out potential weapons and escape routes around him. He began what appeared to be an inspection, pacing around me raising my arms, prodding and poking at my body, tilting my head this way and that. When he went to look at my teeth I nearly bit his finger. 

“Watch it, chief. I’m no fuckin’ horse.”

“Oh, dear. It seems the little cocktail we gave you and your friends was a touch too strong.” He chuckled as if that was a joke, patted my head, then continued. “See, hun, when I said I bought you.” His large hand slid down my cheek to my throat where his grip tightened. “I _bought_ you, slave. You and your “coworkers” are part of my new stock of toys for my loyal clientele~ Well, not you. You’re all mine.” He smiled in a bid to seem charming. He looked like an asshole. 

I didn’t even hesitate. Rich, delusional men didn’t scare me. I’d dealt with my fair share of psycho clients. My knee slammed into his crotch and I smashed the bedside lamp over his head while he doubled over in pain. I ran. _Fuck, fuck, fuck. What the FUCK did Chris get me into. Gods, fuck my god damn shit hole of a life. What’s better? Being some rich douche bag’s sex slave before getting trafficed, being a hooker, or starving to death and probably getting raped in New Orleans? I think I’ll take my chances on New Orleans. Fuck Florida._ I vaulted over a sofa, ducked under a muscular woman, and was through the door behind her with a whoop. My flight was interrupted by the very large, very scary looking man who took Candy clotheslining me as I came around a corner into the hallway. 

“Ghhk-” My throat collapsed as I hit the ground, gasping for air.

“Got her in hallway four, sir.” He growled into a walkie talkie while I passed out. “Where should I take her?”

. . Ღ . .

When I woke up next I was tied to a post next to my fellow hookers. The scary man who’d fuckin crushed my throat in the hallway was leaning in the doorway to what looked like stairs. I glowered at him; he didn’t seem to notice. Fucker. Candy groaned beside me, rolling over. I rolled my eyes and began taking stock again. So...wild running didn’t work. What else did I have? My hands were bound behind my back this time and I wasn’t stuffed with a plug anymore. They didn’t hobble my feet, amateurs. The collar around my neck was metal, but wasn’t really attached to anything, so I’m not too sure what the goal with it is. 

“Good morning, ladies.” Came the same svelte voice from earlier. I practically growled at him as the platinum blond man walked through the doorway. His scary friend looming behind him. Now he was actually dressed. He wore a midnight blue suit with his pale hair slicked back from his face. It revealed his strong brows and stronger jaw. Rich, sex-trafficing bastard.

With a cheery clap he launched into what sounded like a prepared speech. “You little delicacies were all purchased last night from various places along the coast. As we speak, your existence is being erased. From now on you are nameless, purposeless dolls for me to craft into wonderful custom pieces of art for my customers.” When he grinned this time I noticed that his canines were sharpened. He looked like a wolf about to eat us for dinner. As a few women began to protest, he continued in a raised voice. “You will address me as Master Griffin, and my men and women will oversee your re-education. They will be called ‘Sir’ or ‘Ma’am’ or _I will hear why._ And trust me when I say, you want nothing to do with me, loves.”

“You will all be given a temporary number, one through thirty-five until you “graduate” our little school. At which point your new Masters or Mistresses will rename you and we will give you an official number. Now, down the line we go. Don’t forget your new name~” 

I’m number one.

When he was done, Griffin approached me with what looked like a cattle prod. “Now, as a simple demonstration, I’ll use little Onesie here. She was kind enough to be troublesome earlier, so it’s quite overdue~ If you _disobey us_ -” he touched the prod to my skin and activated it. I screamed, crumpling to the floor. He didn’t stop, pushing me further into the dirt with the prod. I tried to move away but he cooly followed me, not letting up. When I was silently sobbing into the dirt and there was a large burn on my shoulder and a hole in my lip, he finally relented. “You will be punished. Any questions?” The room was dead silent. These women were smarter than me it seemed. “No? Excellent.”

He grabbed me by my hair and hauled me to my feet. He sneered in my face, looming down to press his nose to mine. “Like I said, slave...You’re _mine_ so don’t think you get the baby classes with the rest of them. Straight to advanced placement with you, doll.”

My pain addled brain couldn’t put it together, but something about this man was familiar. Beyond our escapades last night. I followed after Griffin, not that I really had much choice in the matter considering his steel tight grip on my hair. As he hauled me up the stairs, I was able to blink the stars out of my eyes and start thinking. _This man is fucking serious, and he seems to have the means to do whatever he fucking pleases. What had started as a simple escort job on a Florida yacht party had become much, much worse. Who around here has the power and the money to finance such an industry? The connections?_ That’s when it hit me, and I shuddered realizing the hell I was in for. 

“Oh? Realize what’s happening?” He chuckled darkly, releasing me as we entered into a large living room and he locked the basement door. 

“Yeah. You’re him...from the families.” I rubbed the blood off my lip from where I’d bit through it and glowered up at him. “The fucking sex pest slave-seller for the mafia.”

“Aw, I picked a good little street rat. It’s smart.” He cooed before jabbing the cattle prod into my stomach. I screeched, scrambling backwards and falling over myself. His foot ground on my throat as he stared down at me with ice cold eyes “Try again with respect and the proper titles.”

“M-master...Griffin of the five families.” I snarled then spat blood onto his polished black leather dress shoes. He pulled back, wound up, then kicked my head. Hard. I was seeing stars and bleeding from my ringing ear when he forced me up by my hair again. 

“.....nice…..pet.”

“WHAT?” I asked, yelling. Griffin responded by buffeting my other ear with his fist, which did not help the ringing in my head or my dizziness, but got the message across just fine. _Right. Shutting up. I don’t need my brain scrambled any further, thanks mister._

Cyrus led me to another room after that, his hand crushing my wrist with its ironclad grip. This room was filled with racks on racks of lingerie, harnesses, silks, leathers, everything you could dress a human up in under the sun. After selecting a few choices that looked like hardly more than scraps of lace and silk, we left the room. Every hesitation and struggle was met with a touch from the prod. Soon enough I was walking quickly behind him. Next stop was the room I woke up in.Cyrus jerked me forward so hard I stumbled and fell to my knees. Thankfully my ears were mostly working again.

“Awh, it knows the right position.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Oh no, hun. That’s why you’re here~” He jabbed the prod into my back and laughed as I yelled in pain, writhing under him. 

Once he was satisfied, his fist was in my hair and forcing my mouth on his cock. Without any thought to my safety, I bit down. Hard. Cyrus yelped in pain and threw me backwards, slamming my head into the solid oak bed frame. The room was spinning and I could taste blood, though I wasn’t sure if it was mine or his. As quickly as he was gone, he was back. His hand on my head again, he bashed it on the wooden frame until I passed out.

. . Ღ . .

I was tied spread eagle and Cyrus was filing his nails when I came to. I did my best to spit at him, but my likely concussion seemed to have damaged my aim. He ignored me. After what felt like an eternity he pulled something out of his coat pocket and pressed it against my vagina, gently at first. The moment it touched me, I cringed away. Ginger root. Cyrus didn’t stop, he silently pushed it into my dry slit.

“You can keep that for now. I’ll go get something for your mouth so you learn not to bite the hand that feeds you. Be grateful I haven’t torn all your teeth out, whore.” His voice was quiet. Deathly so.

As soon as he left the room, I let out the agonized gasp I had been holding in. The ginger burned. It seared. My groin felt like it was being swarmed by thousands of furious fire ants. This was hell. I sobbed and squirmed, arching my hips to get it out of my body, to make it stop. It didn’t work. If anything, it just rooted the ginger deeper in me. I was so distracted by the burning pain I didn’t notice Cyrus return until those stormy grey eyes bore down into mine. He looked _furious_. In his hand was the biggest sex toy I had ever seen. It was fat. Almost as big as four soda cans in a square at its base. While tapered, the tip wasn’t exactly thin since it wasn’t very long. The straps at the side gave me no hesitation in what this hellish device was for. Seeing my terror and agony, Cyrus Griffin just grinned and forced my jaw open and jammed the dildo gag into my mouth. He pushed harder, dislocating my jaw and tying the gag on despite my garbled sobs and screams of pain. His fist clenched in my hair as he forced me to meet his gaze.

“Maybe I’ll take this and the ginger out in an hour or two.” He smiled coldly at me. “Maybe I’ll forget. We’ll see.”

It was four hours of pure torture before Cyrus came back. I was utterly numb, passed out from the pain and hardly breathing. I learned my lesson that day. This was not a man I was going to hurt again.

. . Ღ . .

In the time after my first torturous day in this hell pit, we had established a routine of sorts. I slept in the bathroom, on cold tile. Griffin would ring his stupid bell and grin at me with his shit eating snarl while I was forced to trounce around in skimpy sheer silk strips that hardly covered my tits or ass or anything, really, and feed him breakfast by hand like he was a greek god. Sometimes he’d feed me and force me to suck on his fingers. Other days I didn’t eat at all. Then he’d fuck me every way to Sunday until he was pleased and go soak in a hot bath while I collected my cloth scraps and redressed myself. _Worst thing was this fuck has a kink for cum or some shit because he always put a plug in me then locked on a belt so I can’t get it out. Or piss. Or shit. I hate him. A lot._ Any resistance was met very quickly with a cattle prod, or fire, or ice. Or a gun. Last Tuesday it was a gun. I honestly wanted him to shoot me. Instead he about bashed my skull in with it. 

When he woke me this morning it was with something new. Flashcards. _Joy of joys. I get to study!_ “These are your new life tenants, sweet doll. You’d do well to memorize them tonight.”

What that meant was “magically learn this things or I’ll torture you tommorrow~” I was learning. With a roll of my eyes I mumbled a “yes, Master Griffin.” Which was met, of course, with a slap. 

“Drop the attitude, fuck sleeve...Unless you want a figging? If not, I suggest you get to feeding me.” 

I clenched my fists, shaking in rage. I was going to gut him. Stab him! While I fantasized all my favorite ways to murder him Griffin busied himself with nipping at my fingers every time I placed a piece of fruit or egg in his mouth and groping me with his hands. It took more willpower than I had not to moan in response. I had never met someone who kept up my libido or my needs, honestly. He was the first person I met who did so, and seemed to do it effortlessly. He’d be remarkably to my tastes if he wasn’t a complete psychopath. _What is wrong with me, mewling like some ingenue while I’m being molested and raped every day._

His large hands gently massaged a small breast before sly fingers began to pinch and pull at my nipples. I gasped, arching into his touch. Cyrus chuckled and pulled harder, drawing a whimper of pain out of me. He liked those most I had noticed. As soon as he swallowed the last piece of fruit, the man was on me like a ravenous monster. His nails dug into my hips as he forced his cock into me with no consideration or mercy. I yelled in pain, trying to squirm away. Cyrus Griffin was not a small man, and his daily intrusions were agonizing. His nails tugged at my flesh, leaving trails of red, raw skin in their wake as he thrust into me.

“Mhhnnn, good slut.” He panted into my ear as I cried out. “Louder for your Master. Scream for me~”

He rolled his hips, slamming the head of his cock into my cervix just-so. I yowled, arching up against him as tears formed in my eyes. He moaned in delight above me at the reaction and sank his teeth in my shoulder. I had learned weeks ago fighting only pleased him, so I lay as still as I could and withheld as much of my noise as I could. This was the only time I’d get to rest on a soft bed, and as it was most mornings I could hardly stand from the hunger and exhaustion. My lack of enthusiasm didn’t seem to discourage him much either per say, but it did annoy him enough that afterwards Cyrus would pout while he sent me away to my “lessons” with his meatheads. This morning he went a solid five rounds, not giving a single thought to how it felt for me or what I wanted. He was a far cry from the considerate, well-experienced lover of our first night together. Perhaps this was supposed to be a punishment in and of itself. But if it was, I couldn’t tell what his aim was beyond being utterly insatiable and needing something warm to fuck so he didn’t go insane.

. . Ღ . .

Afterwards, however, he did not hand me off to the muscular black-haired woman nor the scar-faced burly man. He dragged me by my hair to the tub, forced me in it and poured cold water over my head.

“FUCK! WHAT YOU ARE-” I was cut off by a deluge of water and began choking as it was poured down my throat. Not that that stopped his royal pain the fucking ass. I wheezed and gasped for breath afterwards before grabbing his wrists with a snarl. “I can bathe myself, you fuck.” 

Cyrus raised his brows at me ambivalently, as if to say ‘and?’ before dumping another bucket of water over my head.

“What is wrong with you?! What is mommy coming home so you need to-” Another deluge. Another coughing fit. “So you need to clean up and pretend I’m your girl-” I snarled after catching my breath this time, glaring up at him. He met me with a bored look.

“Are you done with your whining, slave?” He drawled slowly, “Because I have other things to do than annoy you today. In fact, you have a little ‘therapy session’ with our resident mental health expert today. So get dressed.”

 _Therapist?_ I squinted at him through my sopping wet mane of hair. _What’s his game. This is a fucking joke._

After pulling on a new set of silks, this one a single breast-band and a skirt composed of two long panels-- one for my crotch, one for my ass-- , that Cyrus supplied I was hauled across the house and down into the basement. From there the scar-man watched over all thirty-five of us with what looked like a gun as we, one by one, went into a little room I hadn’t noticed earlier. My former fellows were truly broken women. They were glassy eyed and obedient. No questions asked, no thoughts had. They obeyed everyone around them and seemed to ignore each other. The girls who came out _seemed_ just like the rest, but had a metal collar on their necks. I stood there in line, shivering, dizzy, and tired. All of them at least look like they got two meals a day. I probably looked like a ghost by comparison.

. . Ღ . .

After what felt like an eternity, it was my turn.I stumbled forward, almost falling so scar-face helped me to the door. Inside was a short, stout older man with white hair and thick beard. He smiled at me and gestured for me to sit. “Welcome, sweetheart. This is a safe space. You’ll just be taking some time to relax with me. Talk about your worries and excitements. So lay down, get comfy, close your eyes. You can even nap.” 

I laid down, staring at this man uneasily. What was he here for? Hypnotizing us? Indoctrination?

“So, how’s Mr. Griffin been?” 

“Awful. I’m tired. He about fucks me to death every morning. I sleep on the floor. Everything hurts. I hate it here. I hate him.”

“Aaah, naughty boy. He should be nicer to you.” The old man smiled, patted my head despite my glower, and continued on, “I’ll be sure to talk to him for you, One. Don’t worry.”

“Now, let me get to business. I’ll teach you to meditate. So just breathe with me, alright?” It was a slow breathing pattern, steady, rhythmic. It was soothing.The bed was so soft, this room was so warm..It even smelled faintly of vanilla. After a few moments I felt calm and collected, my breath was coming easier, and I was less stiff on the couch. “So tell me, miss, did you have any fond childhood memories?”

“Yeah. Had a dog.”

“Mhhmm, well, imagine you’re with your dog-”

“Luce.” I murmured softly, thinking of his soft curly fur and the warmth of his tongue on my cheek. He was a good dog. I sighed contentedly, nuzzling into the couch cushion and inhaling the vanilla scent.

“Yes, yes, dear. You’re playing with Luce in your room. Everything is calm and quiet.”

I drifted away, letting the fantasy take me over. This was pretty relaxing. I liked it.

. . Ღ . .

When I woke up, Cyrus was peering down at me with curious blue eyes. “And it really works?”

“Try it for yourself, sir.” murmured the old man. 

“Onesie, on my signal you are to suck my dick.” 

“Mr. Griff-”

“Feathers fly.”

I blinked up at my Master with an affectionate smile. If that’d make him happy...I complied easily with his request. I rolled off the futon, crawled to him on my hands and knees, unzipped his slacks and was pulling his half-hard cock out of his underwear when he spoke up again. “Back to roost.”

I jerked back in revulsion and shock. “What the FUCK did you do to me?”

Cyrus chuckled darkly, “Feathers fly…”

I stared up at him adoringly, drooling at the sight of his member. With a tilt of my head I watched as he gestured to his half-hard cock again. I approached, swallowing it down eagerly. “Back to roost~” Cyrus cooed as he slammed his hips forward and grabbed the back of my head. As I gagged and struggled, he slowly fucked my face. “Mhhmmm, this throat of yours is such a delight, Onesie~ I need to use it more.” He finally let me go when my face was growing blue and my eyes were rolling back. I lay on the floor, dry heaving and gasping for air. Cyrus turned to his employee with a vicious sneer.

“Lovely work, doctor. This will make training my pet project an absolute breeze~”

“O-of course, sir...Though if I may as a medical professional?”

“Hm?”

“W-well, sir, she’s covered in bruises and is getting very thin. Perhaps...some softer sleeping arrangements. Or a, uh, break from your activities? More regular feedings? The girls down here eat the special formula to stay plump for the market.”

“A break, huh?” Cyrus looked at me, and the mischievous glint in his eyes terrified me. “I think I manage that, doc.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick afterword from Claira, author of the original story to which this is a spinoff:  
>  If you haven't read the Matron's Handmaiden, I would highly recommend that you check it out first, because the plot elements, scenario, setting, and even the main characters are all derived from that original story of mine. If you have read the original story, thank you so much for your support and thank you so much for coming to check out my friend's little side story here.  
>  We do intend this as a canonical little supplement to the original story, and though I am allowing myself to be a co-author, this is largely an effort by BloodMoonKitten here, and I hope you enjoy~
> 
> Of course, actions and dialogue for Candace St. Clair will, as always, be written and provided by yours truly~  
>  \- Claira (Clairanette)


	2. Guidelines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  
> Just a bit of forewarning, towards the end of this chapter Cyrus tortures then murders one character then seriously injures Liz. If you don’t want to read about those things, please skip the end of this chapter! Otherwise, enjoy~  
> -Blood Moon

. . Ღ . .

I yawned, stretching to pop my back. Mhmm. I easily swung my feet out of the bed, organizing my agenda for the day. Packing up the girls, private flight to the mainland, discussing with the buyers which girl they wanted and arranging for any customizations…. Yeah. Today would be the start of a long two months. A very long, boring two months. If Onesie was well behaved, I would’ve happily taken her with me so she’d get to see the lap of luxury she was going to live in-- and so I had something tight and hot to bounce on my cock for the plane ride, plane rides are boring as fuck-- but, alas! My doll was not well behaved.

Even with the hypnosis trigger words, One was stubborn. Obstinate, aggressive, dominant. I loved it, and her snarky, territorial attitude, but I couldn’t trust that she wouldn’t gut me with a kitchen knife if she got the opportunity at a hotel or try to shove me out of a plane. Soooo, she got to enjoy remedial classes while I was away. Courtney was going to get on her good side and I’d see just how difficult she’d be...And break her in. My normal servants returned to their jobs, scurrying about to set out my clothes, start my shower, and serve me food. 

All that said, I wasn’t quite sure what I’d do for the trip. I had grown very accustomed to her body milking me for cum regularly every day, the idea of jerking off with a silicone tube or my hand was...less than enticing. I grimaced at the thought and sighed, rubbing my temples. I had no choice in the matter. Time to tamp down on the beast before I have to leave.

Two hours later, we were boarding the private jet. I retreated to my private cabin, feeling antsy. Already I was feeling my lust start to creep up again. Inescapable. Onesie did a good job taking care of it morning and night and I had gotten spoiled. My eyes were drawn to the naked women ahead of me. The girls were shoved into the cargo compartment and strapped down. They giggled compliantly for Phil as he patted their heads and fondled them. Aaah, the sound of a job well done. Each one of those pretty little dolls would net me a few million dollars, and that wasn’t even getting into the customizations each customer would want. I settled down into my chair, relaxing as I thought of the slaves and the money they’d make me. But that drew my mind to Onesie again. She was a beautiful woman, and as soon as I saw her that night on the yacht I knew she’d be my new plaything. Ass for days, cute, thick little legs...Mhm~ And, ah god bless her, she kept pace. That first night was her try-out and just thinking back on it got me wound up all over again. The way those hazel eyes stared up at me in awe and the pure submission she offered up? Even that first morning, she was eyeing me up like a piece of meat and fucking herself on the plug. Perfection. I fumbled with my clothes, jerking my zipper down and letting my cock flop free in my sudden need for release. Fuck. My breath came in soft pants as I jerked myself off. Not enough...Not enough. Fuck. Fuck. I fucking hate everything.

“PHIL!” I snarled, sitting up. When he poked his head in the cabin I smiled then continued. “Bring me the best cock whore you have. Now.”

“Yes, sir.” He murmured, averting his gaze before rushing to do as ordered. He returned with a tall, dark haired slave. As soon as she saw my erect cock, she got to work with her mouth silently. She worked her tongue along my shaft, bobbing her head along the first half of the length. I leaned back, able to relax a bit more. With a wave of my hand, Phil closed the door to my cabin to leave me in peace. I endured this boring monotony for a few more minutes.

“You. Useless piece of shit, what the fuck is wrong with you, eh?” I snarled, pulling her off my cock. She didn’t protest. She didn’t squirm. I fucking hate the fully trained dolls. “Squirm, mewl, choke! Do _something_ you useless cocksleeve.”

“Yes, Master Griffin.” she intoned blandly. When I let her go she went back to sucking my cock, but now making stupid noises when she pulled her lips away from me. Oh, for fucks sake. My fingers curled in her hair as slammed her face against my crotch, noting the first genuine noises of pain as the zipper dug into her skin and she couldn’t breathe. Better.

“Like that. Choke yourself on my dick, you cunt.” I kept my grip on her hair, but let her move her head again. The rest of my flight was mind numbingly boring. I ended up having to just throat fuck her myself, then fist her open, then fuck her ass, but it wasn’t really enough. Nor could I damage merchandise we were about to sell. Dissatisfied, I tucked myself away glowering down at the girl like it was her fault. Really, it wasn’t. I knew that, but it didn’t stop my frustration. This was why I hadn’t let Onesie go through the program. This was why I never picked my personal toys from family stock. All of my last six attempts had been personally selected. Even only after a few months of being locked up, broken in, and trained they were blank slates. Boring. No fight like my little street rat, and hopefully that fight would get her through this.

. . Ღ . .

“Mr. Griffin! Right this way, please, sir. We’ll be sure to unload the _cargo_ properly for customer examination.” A steward was walking with me, scrambling to keep up as I stalked off the tarmac. 

“Excellent, thank you. I sampled one of the goods. It's in my cabin, make sure it gets cleaned up and presented to Diggery first.” I grumbled, still feeling unsatisfied and distracted. Perhaps I could get Courtney to send me pictures and videos of Onesie? Hmm... The mental image of the curvacious woman bouncing herself on a thick dildo and mewling my name sent shivers of delight down my spine. Yeah...Yeah, I’d like that a lot.

“Sir!” The steward nodded then started jabbering orders into his walkie talkie. We made our way into the hotel father owned, one of many. My home for the next two months. Joy. The presidential suite I stayed in was composed of four rooms: a parlor, kitchen, bedroom, bathroom. The parlor was where I’d be interviewing clients the next few weeks and presenting the girlies, who’d be on the floor under me in nice clothes and fancy rooms. Speaking of...

“When’s the first appointment?”

“Three hours, sir!” the man chirped in response.

“Great. Get out. I need to get ready. I expect refreshments for our guests as they arrive!”

The serving man bowed and back out of the room. I went to shower. As I stripped I sent a quick message to an old friend in the city. _”Two girls, sexed up and read to meet my needs. Cardinal Hotel.”_ Then I stepped under the scalding stream and got ready.

. . Ღ . .

“Mr. Griffin, lovely to see you tonight.” Purred my client. A woman, Madame Solas. She was in the market for two matching dolls to customize and play with. “Any girls you have that will fit my needs?” She primly bit on a cookie and lounged back. “I was hoping for an ‘opposites attract’ theme~”

“Well, if you can confirm payment in full for two dolls in six months with a down payment today...I can show you the stock. Then we can discuss customizations~” I replied coolly as the two escorts nuzzled into my chest. Mhmm. One of their hands traced my cock through my shorts while the other rubbed her tits against my side. “Our little dolls have a wide variety of uses! These are two such graduates we sold in bulk to a local contractor. Others have gone on to be servants, handmaidens, dress up toys, anything you can imagine you can make them. As you know, a standard doll comes completely identity-less. No personality, no desires, no anything. They will live to serve and please you!” 

I paused, groping the hefty breasts of the toy fondling my cock. I should outfit Onesie with some implants… She needed some more to squeeze. Solas nodded along, having heard the spiel before. She placed a suitcase of cash on the table, propping it open so I could see. When I nodded approval, the two escorts collected it and vanished into my bedroom. Then I took Madame Solas downstairs. With a simple tap of the metal cuff around my wrist a signal was sent to the collar around every girl’s throat. Within minutes they turned out: naked except for the collar, clean, hair down, and standing with their wrists clasped behind their backs. I walked slowly, letting Solas stop to inspect each product as we went. The first girl she picked out was a tall, athletically built black woman with long natural hair. The counterpart was a short, chubby asian woman with short cropped hair. She’d been shaven as punishment early in her time with us, and no matter how we starved them she maintained her plump physique. 

“Excellent choices~” I congratulated, “Well. We’ll get them ready for departure to their new home tomorrow, complete with their medical records. Proof of spay, tracking chip, and of course the controller to their collars. You can send their names to the steward who greeted you, or if you have them tell each girl now.”

“I’ll send them later.” She flapped a hand, starting off. I waved goodbye then turned to numbers Twenty and Fifteen. Both women bowed deeply to me. 

“Master Griffin…” The pair intoned together. “What are we to do.”

“Awh, what good girls. Return to your rooms, sleep. Follow all instructions from the men who come get you. If they don’t have this-” I tapped my griffin broach, “--don’t go with them. Fight. Hard.” They returned to their rooms quickly as did the rest of the girls. One down, thirty-two more to go.

. . Ღ . .

The next three weeks were spent having similar selection appointments. After each slave was selected their new owners added any modifications. Chips, brands, feature adjustments, whatever they wanted was available for the right price. While I was finalizing their surgery orders, I worked on Onesies as well. I sighed, leafing through the documents. Thirty some odd surgeries in four weeks. It was a brutal pace on my surgeons and on my post-op staff. I clicked my tongue and finished signing off on the last documents. Then I shuffled them into piles based on each slave. Stapled packets together, set them aside, and started on the next. Eventually I was through the paperwork. The hooker under my desk whined as I pushed the chair back. I rolled my eyes, it was almost convincing. 

“Shut up and get out. You had an hour and half to get your money shot.” I snapped, irritated. She left, grumbling and collecting her things. I couldn’t stop in my paperwork to fuck her skull till I came, but I couldn’t focus on the fucking paperwork without something wet and hot around my dick. I wanted to tear my hair out. My forehead pressed into the cold wooden desk. _”Breathe, Cyrus…Breathe. You aren’t a teen boy anymore. Get a fucking grip.”_ My phone buzzed. I rolled my head to the side. Ah. My daily dose of my favorite doll. With one hand tight around my cock, I unlocked my phone to eye the message. This was pathetic. But god help me, she managed to be breathtaking even half-starved...Though in the weeks I’d been gone Courtney seemed to have been stuffing the woman full of formula food. She’d thickened up a bit. I grinned, hand jerking over my swollen member as I watched the video. There she was, my little Onesie riding a sybian with the attached dildo stuffing her pussy. Every gasp and mewl was a jolt to my groin. Fuck I missed this. My last toy died over six months ago. I’d been losing my mind ever since. Courtney zoomed in as Onesie came, her entire body shaking, mouth falling open in an ‘o’. Angelic. My grip tightened and pace quickened. Relentless. More. More. The electric buzz of the sybian only grew louder and the soft moans and mewls became cries for mercy. Tears poured down the slave’s cheeks as she shuddered through another orgasm. 

“M-m-master Cyrus, p-pl-please~” came the high pitched keen from my phone’s speaker. I came, gasping and jerking my hips to meet my hand. Oh fuck me. That was the first time my little pet had cried for me. I was panting softly, still laying on the desk with cum dripping onto the floor when my phone buzzed again. Courtney sent me another video. It was my cute little Onesie, curled up on the floor, still shuddering from her joy ride and mumbling. “Master...Master...I miss Master.” 

”She’s been doing this since I dragged her off. She didn’t even want off the damn thing. Whining about how she missed cock.”

”She’s only getting rides when she’s well behaved?” I typed slowly with one hand, my other still slowly teasing my hardon. ”Don’t spoil her.”

”yessir! Told her this was your special treat the first time last week. This time, the same thing. Think we’re breaking through finally.”

There was a pause, then a new message. This one a solid black picture. Then I was getting a barrage of messages.

“Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.Holding out on me! Shit lover. Coward! Scared of a girl? Staff sucks. Bored. Coward. Get fucked. I beat her up. Where are you? I miss dick! I'm bored! Nobody touches me! Come back asshole. Hope you get stabbed. Florida men suck.”

I snorted, then another message came through after about 15 minutes of radio silence.

“Apologies, sir. The slave stole my device and had to be reprimanded. I believe she is growing stir crazy from the disruption of her routine.”

I laughed sympathetically. I was going my fair share of crazy. When I got back, she’ll get more dick than she can handle. ”You tell Onsie that IF she is a good girl for you, she’ll get whatever she wants when I get back.” Courtney replied with a thumbs up, then was gone. I sighed and scrolled back through previous messages, skipping over selfies of Courtney with the slave or Onesie and her blanket. Most of them were punishments: figging, electrocution, whipping, ice. The way she screamed, cried, whimpered, and tried to get away was so perfect. My hand quickened again, hot and fast as I panted and fantasized about what I’d do to her once I got her to my-

“Mr.Griffin!” There was a knock at the door. “Mr. Griffin! I’m here for the surgical authorizations.”

I yelled wordlessly, slamming the phone down. There was a nervous shuffling outside the door as I settled my dick under my waistband then zipped up. I opened the door with a dark glare and shoved the stack of papers into the hands of the idiot waiting for me. He shivered, sinking back. 

“S-s-sorry, sir! I-i-i was told by the s-s-s-surgeon. They n-n-n-needed it t-t-t-today….” he croaked out, stammering weakly and looking away. I ground my teeth but didn’t respond, only slamming the door in his face and turning around.

God in heaven above, he was lucky this was a public place. If he was- I took a slow, deep breath. In...and out...In and out. Paperwork was my whole life, and as soon as this batch shipped out I’d be back home checking on our accountants, paying Phil and Courtney, and hunting out options for the next batch. It’d be fine. I’d have my stupid little slut to suck my dick properly while I did so. 

. . Ღ . .

I was woken up at 4 am by the rapid buzzing of my phone. 

”Hey. Fucker. Yeah you. Fuck you. I stole your bitch’s phone while she’s asleep. She’s very bad at this. Didn’t even tie my hands well. You should teach her the thumb-trick. I hope you’re asleep and I woke you up. Fucking pound sand, you psychotic mother fucker. Having fun torturing girls? When I wake up tomorrow will my roommates be toddlers?”

“Having fun, ratling?” I typed back with a yawn. ”I hope you realize this means you won’t get a reward.”

”Did I ask for one? Eh?! Fuck you! Starving me to death then being happy when my hypnotized, drug addled ass begs for you doesn’t mean jack shit. Y.”

I didn’t receive another text for twenty minutes. The image of the naked, collared slave running away from Courtney was vivid in my mind as I drifted in and out of sleep. Then I got another message, a picture. Slave one was in the forefront, face red, sneering at the camera with Courtney behind her in a rage. I burst out laughing. This was certainly a first. None of my previous pet projects had been this fun. Almost worth waking up early for. The next message I got was from Courtney.

”Sorry Cyrus.”

“Oh, it’s fine. She’s cute. Make sure her cunt is stuffed with ice and start with the vampire gloves for spanking. Video too please.”

I rolled onto my side, curled up and vacantly watching my phone in the wee hours of dawn. I hadn’t given Courtney access to Onesie’s collar controls since they were special. Onesie number 6 died from an overeager handler. I wasn’t tempted to lose number 7 the same way...but perhaps that had been a mistake. Sure, she got caught tonight because she was busy disrupting my sleep, but next time? Next time she could actually escape then we’d all be fucked. For now, Courtney should keep her chained to the wall, bound, gloved, booted, and muzzled til I returned. I dozed off again, thinking off all the cute outfits I could dress my doll up in when my phone went off again. Courtney. Videos and pictures attached. Good. I just rolled over onto my stomach with a yawn and went back to bed. I’d tell her in the morning.

When I woke up to my alarm later, a quick glance at my told me there had been more trouble. Dozens of messages from Courtney’s number, all cursing me out, threatening to call the cops once she cracked the phone, promising the death of my family. The most recent one was a minute ago. I blinked the sleep from my eyes, sat up, and called the number.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, cocksleeve?” I snarled into the phone. 

“GETTING OUT YOU COCK SUCKING PIECE OF DOGSHIT” I held the phone away from my ear and sighed. I was going to have to discipline two women when I returned home it seemed. Useless. “FUCK YOU! FUCK YOUR FAMILY! FUCK YOUR SEX SLAVE BULLSHIT!” 

“Who was it just begging for her beloved Master last night?” I asked dryly, getting dressed.

“DOESN’T COUNT! I WAS HYPNOTIZED BY-BY”

“By the earth shattering orgasms I ordered Courtney to give you on the sybian? Because nobody else knows your trigger phrase...speaking of.” I sighed then spoke calmly into the phone, “Feathers fly.” 

“Grr-” There was a pause, then I heard her slump to the floor. “Master, why am I naked in a closet? Why do I have bleach?”

“Because you’re a fucking idiot whore, Onesie.” I murmured, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Get up and walk to Courtney then hand her the phone.” 

She hummed affirmation then got up. I didn’t hear much more but shuffling until Courtney took the phone, panting. “C-cyrus...sir.” 

“Courtney.” I answered, smiling coldly. “You are to take my slave, chain her up in the training room, muzzle her, blindfold her, lock mittens and booties on her hands and feet. You will remain in that room with her until I return home this afternoon, do you understand?” 

“Yes , sir.” 

“Is that Master? I want Ma-” 

There was a thump then Courtney spoke up again. “I am very sorry, sir.”

“It was cute at first, Courtney, but your duties of friendship do not extend far enough to get us all killed. I hired you to handle the slaves.. So _handle_ them or I will handle you.” With that I hung up.

Over breakfast, I informed Phil I’d be leaving for home since we were pretty much done here. He nodded understanding, promising to hold everything down for a few days while I was away. Good...Now what was I to do with my two idiots back home.

. . Ღ . .

“Back to roost.” I whispered, crushing One’s windpipe with a razor thin smile. As she writhed and spat at me I slammed her head back into the wall. “Wow. It’s awake. Spectacular. I wanted you awake to watch what your pathetic caretaker goes through due to your misbehavior. And instead of a reward, you get a punishment, my stupid ratling. You’ll be my fucksleeve...but I’ll continue in my habit of avoiding your pleasure. See, when I got back I was planning a wonderful day of making you cum until you couldn’t see straight...Since it’s been a lonely month for you. But I think having you constantly edged for a month will be fun, don’t you?” 

She responded with a snarl. I dropped her and kicked her gut. “Oh shut the fuck up.”

Then I turned to Courtney, who was still waiting for me in the corner. Judging by the tears, she knew what was coming. She didn’t put up a fight, just hung her head in defeat. I jerked a hand to the chair with leather straps on the arms and legs. She swallowed thickly and dragged herself to it. I quickly tied her down, and while I was leaning over her she murmured apologies profusely.

“Oh shut up. If you were anywhere near competent at your job this wouldn’t be happening. I’m sure Phil will find a nice replacement for you. No worries.” I made sure my voice carried to the slave behind me, then I smiled and patted Courtney’s shoulder comfortingly. On the table were laid an array of tools: bone saws, pliers, a hammer, nails, a gun, knives. The standard toys. I smiled and grabbed the hammer, twirling it before slamming the item down on her hand. _CRUNCH_ I could feel bones shatter as she screeched in pain. _CRUNCH_ I paced around her, enjoying the harmonizing sobs from the two women in the room. _CRUNCH_ _CRUNCH_ I was satisfied once I had shattered her hands and feet. Then came the pliers. I grabbed her jaw, squeezing it open and grasping a tooth. _Yank!_ She sobbed, gasping and choking on her blood as I continued, methodically prying out her teeth. One. By. One. Courtney gurgled, eyes bulging in pain. Behind me the slave was screaming in protest, chains singing as she strained against them. I laughed at both women and gave Courtney’s hand a not so gentle pat. She cringed, another bubbling moan escaped her.

“NONONO!” the slave screamed through her muzzle, yanking against her restraints. “PLEASE NO! IT WAS ME! PLEASE”

“Goodnight, my dear friend~” I whispered in Courtney’s ear, slowly cocking the gun. I relished in the utter defeat in those pale green eyes, the fear I could hear in Onesie’s strained voice. Beautiful. Truly, it was. Too bad Courtney was just dying for a game of play pretend, but, well...I had a slave to break in. I pressed the muzzle of the gun to her forehead and pulled the trigger. Courtney slumped down in the chair, head blasted apart and blood splattering me, the chair, and the ground. I turned to Onesie with a wolfish grin, chuckling. “It _was_ you~ So now maybe you’ll behave. These are the consequences, Onesie.”

She was shuddering in terror, trying to move away from me. I stalked closer, setting the gun down as I passed the table. I grabbed a fistful of hair and hauled her up to look in my eyes.

“Oh don’t cry so much, little one. You won’t die tonight. If you behave. I’ll just break your arms and legs so I can take you back to work. You’ll lay in my bed, bounce on my cock, and shut the fuck up. How’s that sound?” 

“Mhm-mhm!” she whimpered, nodding through her tears.

“Awh, good girl.”

. . Ღ . .

I was quick, and business like. Each of her shins was tied to a wooden block, half-on and half-off. Then I slammed my foot down on the free part until I heard the snap. She screamed her throat raw as I repeated the process for her arms. She lay still on the ground, sobbing. 

I nudged her head with my toe. “Shut up. You’re getting brought to some of the best doctors in the country tomorrow morning. They’ll fix you right up...and some extras.”

She did quiet down, much to my surprise. Aha~ It seems she was learning actual obedience.  
Wonderful. I squatted over her, looking into her eyes. They were lifeless. Beautiful, really. I loved how women looked when they were broken. 

“Good girl. I’ll be giving you a name now. Since I plan on keeping you and your friends have been sold and have their own names too. How’s Elizabeth sound, hm? My little Lizzy. Liz. Liz-a-loo. Ellie. Beth. Lots of fun little pet names for you, doll. But I think Liz is short and sweet. What do you think?”

She nodded, still silent. Her tears were dry down. She’d learn crying got her nowhere. That was always my favorite part. When they just gave up and accepted the pain.

“Excellent. Not that you had much choice anyways.” I chuckled and tweaked her nose, “Next thing: recite the ten guidelines I gave you before I left. If you do that, I’ll splint your limbs and stick you in a wheelchair. Won’t that be comfortable?”

“K-k-know my p-pl-place. I have a r-r-r-role to p-p-play. I have a purpose. As a...a..a slave, my purpose is what..whatever my M-master says it is. I am below my Master, and I will remember my place and pur-purpose.”

“K-know my Master. I ha-have a M-master, and I know who my Master is. I belong to h-” she broke off, coughing and hacking from her raw throat,”, and that pu-puts him above all o-others. He is the c-center of my world, and I will learn what he needs, le-learn what he wants, a-a-and learn how to….how to s-serve him.”

There was another pause. I watched carefully as pain and shame flashed through her eyes. She squeezed them shut, turned away and began again. “Show re-respect. I am a….slave...n-not a person.” Another thick swallow, another gasp of pain. Her eyes were open again, dizzy with agony. “All others are a-above me and they deserve to be respected. I will-will put myself b-below all others, but I will respect my….my Master first and f-f-f-fore-foremost. As a….a slave, my...my Master is above all others, and I am b-b-below all others.”

“D-do as I’m told. I will obey my-my Master at all times. When my M-master tells me to do so-so-som-something, I am to do..do it. No matter what I’m told, I will always follow my Master’s directions.”  
“Do not….Do not fight back. My master de-deserves my full respect and cooperation.” Liz hesitated again. It only took some gentle pressure as I bent her finger back for her to continue. ”I will not disobey or-orders. I will not talk back. I will not disagree with him. My master is the only th-thing that matters, and I am not to fight back.” I let her finger go, instead gently petting her hair.

“Halfway done, little Liz. Soon you can have pain killers and a nap.” I promised with a gentle scratch. She leaned into the touch, sobbed, then started up.

“Act out of...of…” her face twisted up, “out of love, n-n-not out of fear. My Master has the right to do whatever h-he wants to m-m-me. I will act out of love for my Master, and not out of fear of what he will do to me. I will show him that I love him, and that his happiness is my priority.”

“I-i-i-identify with my Master. As a...slave, I am not an individual, I am a possession. I will identify as my Master’s slave, and not as my own person. I will let myself be viewed as my Master’s slave, and nothing more. I will be an extension of him. I will let him make my decisions, I will let him fu-fu-fulfill my ne-needs, and I will let him...him do my thinking for me.”

“Be…..vulnerable.” Liz gritted her teeth, leaning against my palm. “Master...i-it hurts. I-”

“I know, darling. Keep going.” I murmured softly.

“I-I will make my Master’s life as pl-pl-pleasant as po-possible. I will open myself up to hi-him, and I will tr-trust him. I will show my Master that I am vulnerable to him. I will show him that I am p-p-powerless. I will let him….let him t-touch me, I will let him hurt….” she shivered,” hurt me, and I will let him h-humiliate me.”

“Be a-a-adaptable. I will learn from my mistakes. I will show my Master that I will bend to his will. I will be open to anything and everything my Master says, even if it goes against what I w-want. My Master’s desires will change, and I must change to suit his n-needs.”

“S-st-strive for perfection. I won’t just do as I’m told, I will make my Master pr-proud. I will do everything in my po-power to be more than what my Master expects and demands me to be, even if he doesn’t notice. The li-little things will mean a lot to him, and I will strive to be the best slave m-my Master could ever wish for.”

I patted her gently. I _was_ proud of her. Grinding all of that out while in the severe shock from four broken limbs. I smiled, a sweeter one and pet her head gently.

“Atta girl~” I murmured softly before rising to my feet and calling for the facility’s medic. He arrived soon enough and got to work. While he knocked her out with a quick shot of ketamine then began splinting her arms and legs, I dragged Courtney’s corpse to the back room for disposal. The house staff would take care of the rest. Ferris smiled up at me, a wicked smirk, and gave a thumbs up as he stepped back from Liz.

“I’ll be back in a pinch, sir. Gunna grab her a chair then we can get her up the stairs.”

“Aye, aye, captain.” I murmured sarcastically before redirecting my attention to Liz. I squatted down at her side again, observing her now that she was still for once. She was small, hardly a few inches over five foot, and slender until her hips. _Those_ were thick, wide hips. I smirked, settling an admiring hand on them. If I was interested in the concept of children, they’d be excellent for giving me lots and lots of little ones. A bit lacking in the breast department, but that could be fixed easily. Besides, her modest B cups weren’t anything to sniff at. I could just afford to be picky. Besides, her basic shape didn’t matter too much, I’d just have them adjust it.

When Ferris came back, we lifted her into the chair then made our way carefully up the stairs into the house proper. I wheeled Liz into a small room, more an extra closet than anything, attached to mine. Now that she was named and I knew I needed to keep her, she’d be sleeping here. I kissed her head then locked the door from my room. Nice and safe. I sprawled in my bed, dreaming of all the piercings and modifications I’d get done while I had her with the surgeons. Ear tags, earrings, clavicle studs, nipple piercings, hip studs, clitoris, labia….So many perfect, shiny things to decorate my new pet. My little street rat.


	3. Luce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3:  
> A/N:  
> Back to Liz’s POV. As a CW for this chapter, there’s pretty explicitly rapey content here. But also some fluffiness. Enjoy the fluff. -Blood Moon

. . Ღ . .

I was stuck in hell with a monster who wanted me to serve him out of love. He had just….just _murdered_ that woman for no reason. In cold blood. I cried silently. Was he gunna murder me once I got boring? Fuck. I wasn’t sure where I was. It was too dark to see since the lights were off and there were no windows. The pain singing through my entire body stirred up more memories of last night. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to breathe slowly. What time is it? Evidently, whatever that fuck had injected me with wore off. Unfortunately. I leaned back in the chair I was strapped in and sighed. It was going to be months before I could move again. Hopefully he wouldn’t leave me in this pit to die.

When the door to my pitch black room finally opened there he was. Cyrus Griffin. Murderer. Sex trafficker. My new owner. I swallowed thickly, but tried not to shrink back...if I did would he be upset? That was one of those rules. Don’t act out of fear...act out of love. He smiled at me, that terrifying razor thin smile. I shivered and squeezed my eyes shut as he walked closer. No, no, no. Please don-

I felt a warm hand in my hair. I opened my eyes, staring up at him meekly and was met with a fanged sneer. “Good morning, my darling. Time for your pain medicine...Then we have a plane to catch. Be a good girl now.”

I gulped, nodded, and opened my mouth cowed by the pain and lack of sleep. He tipped two small pills onto my tongue then held up water. I swallowed them. I don’t know what he gave me, or why. It wasn’t like he gave a fuck about my health. Part of my brain was still screaming in protest. I didn’t want it. This could be literally anything. Ecstasy, cyanide, literally anything. I shivered, scared and still in shock from last night. Another pat. Another murmured bit of praise. Then he was wheeling me out of the room and through the facility. I stared at the floor, shame and terror welling up in me. I didn’t want it...but what choice did I have, really?

“You really did a number on my place, ya know that?” He started up conversationally. Like we were friends. “Impressive really, all the damage one little woman could do alone…”

“Yes Master.” I replied blandly. Not sure exactly what I was supposed to say to that. Thank him for the compliment? I _was_ a master of destruction.

He leaned down to talk into my ear as we walked through his personal suite, passing torn paintings,his upturned office, shattered windows.... “Do you want to know why you got Courtney killed? It wasn’t just because she was bad at her job, though that certainly helped.” He nibbled on my ear. I shuddered, confused by what exactly he was going for here. Was he trying to be hot or scary? “But because you couldn’t have done this...all alone. Someone helped you~ And it was either _her_ or she let you get help from elsewhere.”

I felt cold. Icey terror was trickling slowly down my spine as I teared up again. Courtney was someone I had grown to actually like. She was nice to me, fed me well...She talked with me. She had stopped tying me up at night when I complained of aching joints. She gave me actual clothes! Real...real clothes. Socks, a t-shirt. A blanket to sleep with. She even...she even threw a few vases around with me. Then... 

“Y-yes…” I whispered hoarsely, staring at the floor and trying to hold the tears back. “I asked her n-not to-” 

Cyrus flicked my arm. I bit through my lip to stop from crying out. It was agonizing, my broken bones burning with pain as they were jostled. He nuzzled the side of my head then rose to his full height and walked faster. “I don’t actually care what you did or how, ratling. So shut up and conserve your strength. You’ll have a busy flight.”

. . Ღ . .

He was right, of course. Once we were on the plane, his pants were off, and then he lifted me like I weighed nothing. I ground my teeth in pain as my legs screamed in protest. They didn’t like being dangled. He didn’t care, but when had he ever? Cyrus set me down on his lap, sliding his half-hard cock into me. He groaned happily in my ear, nuzzling into my neck. It made me shiver in delight. I loved the feeling. I fucking hate him.

“So good~” He murmured, peppering my neck with bites and kisses. I hated myself for responding to that. I hated him more for saying it. “Mhhmmm~ Don’t worry, I’ll do the work until you’re all healed up.”

I cried silently, leaning into him and trying to forget I was here. Just...just be anywhere but here. Gods, why couldn’t the drugs he gave me just kick in and knock me out or something? I moaned in pain and a vague sense of pleasure as I felt Cyrus grow hard inside me. I whimpered desperately, rolling my hips instinctively then crying out as my legs screamed in pain as my shattered bones ground against each other. This was hell. Cyrus chuckled in my ear and bit down on my neck, adding a new mark to my growing collection. The moan came unbidden out of my mouth. I hate him. I hate him so much. Why couldn’t he just _kill me_. I sobbed, unable to escape into fantasy thanks to the constant throbbing pain emanating from my arms and legs and the sharp pain of him bashing my cervix in. I screwed up my face, biting through my lip in a new spot and choking through each god forsaken breath. Unfortunately for-fucking-me, my _oh so great_ Master Cyrus only seemed to enjoy every mewl of pain and suffering I made. Which, of course, only egged him on to make me suffer more. By the end of the flight he’d pumped what felt like enough cum for ten men into me and I was delirious from the pain.

He nuzzled into my neck, lapping at it happily. Well..at least someone was pleased here. I shuddered at the feeling, trying and failing not to moan. “What a good girl~” He murmured. “Crying so pretty for me. After tonight I won’t be able to do that til you’re all healed up….but I can find other ways for us to have sex. Won’t that be fun?”

The best I could manage was a “hnng…” before I blacked out, the sound of his laughter in my ears.

. . Ღ . .

_This is a soft bed…_ I yawned, blinking and staring up at the sterile, white ceiling. Was this a hospital? Was I dreaming? Did I get hopped up on some druggie client’s heroine and end up here? I hope so. If I did, my nightmare would be over and I could go back to fucking and sucking for money then kicking back in the lap of luxury on weekends. I closed my eyes, settling into the bed happily. How delightful…

The daydream I was enjoying was ruined by a large, warm hand petting my hair. No. No. Please, please no. Please, please god no… 

“Good morning, sunshine.” He murmured sweetly. “I hope you enjoy the morphine. You’ll be here for a month or while you recover. We did a lot to that little body of yours~”

“W-what?” I gasped out, staring at him in terror out of the corner of my eye. What did he do to me? “No, no please. Wh-what? I-”

“Sssshhh” He spoke gently, petting my head more. “Sssshhh, ratling. We just got all the standard things done~ And I requested a piercer come visit while you were under. And in...mhm, I think they said about three months, you’ll be pretty much all healed. Until then your nice Master will take time making sure his pet is clean, well fed, and comfortable.”

“S-stand….standard?” I whimpered, my anxiety mounting. Oh god, oh god. My breath came in short, shallow gasps. My chest felt heavy, small pools of pain settled across my body and groin. My abdomen was searing with it. 

Cyrus just smiled sweetly at me and I heard a faint beeping, then he got up, kissed my forehead and left me. The pain faded almost instantly, and I felt a small ooze of calm spread over my body. Everything was hazy and warm again. Good. Clean….Safe. Yeah. Safe. I dozed off smiling and dreaming of fluffy golden dogs.

. . Ღ . .

When I woke up Cyrus was staring down at me again. I smiled hazily at him and raised a hand, trailing cables and tubes after it. “Ah, ah...Ssshh, stay calm.” He pushed my hand down, and I let him. “That’s a good girl. Stay still now. Who’s Luce? You kept mumbling about them.”

“Pup...puppy! Luce was my puppy!” I giggled and rolled my head to nuzzle on his hand. “Soft boy...Good boy. He was blond like Master~” Cyrus’s smile made me happy. I wanted to pet him. Would he be soft like Luce? Luce was more curly. I started to lift my hand again.

“No. You can pet me when you feel better, Liz.” Cyrus corrected sternly. “But my hair is very soft, promise.” Oops. Was I saying stuff out loud? I was high. What did he give me? Drugs..I don’t like drugs. Being high is miserable. I yawned. I should’ve tried morphine earlier. This was nice. 

Cyrus snorted and got up. He gestured to someone out of my view. When a nurse came over, Cyrus walked away. 

“Hiya miss nurse lady. Arooo a slave too?” I asked lyrically, blinking as the woman smiled down at me. She giggled a bit, seemed to check over my body, then sat down. 

“No. Just a private nurse.”

“How doyaknow-see-r-us?” I slurred then giggled at how stupid I sounded. “Does he fuck you too? He fucks too much. I diddin no dat was possible buh...buh he manages it.” 

“No, miss Liz. He does not have any relations to me. Or any of the other staff. To my knowledge, he only does so with women from the facility. Haven’t even seen him with a...er normal one since I’ve known him. And that’s been since he was a young man.” Liz? Who was Liz? oh...Oh wait what was it Cyrus called me? Liz? Beth? Elizabeth...right. I got a new name. Not Cici anymore~! That’s fine. Cici was stupid...I hated it. But, she was calling _me_ the one with broken arms and legs who was in a bed after getting operated on in some fuckin black market hospital...Miss! Miss Liz! Me me me~ A miss.

“Oooooh!! Lil see-r-us. Bet he was a meannun den too.” I snickered, imagining a shorter, slimmer, less angry Cyrus. “Wuz he sucha fuckboy den too?” 

That made the nurse clasp her hands over her mouth as she snickered. It seems like she didn’t get to spend a lot of time with her patients post-op. I grinned loopily and felt a smug sense of superiority to all the stupid floozies who Cyrus didn’t like. _I was special~_ He picked me out! And I got to keep my brain. “Am best….best slave-girl for see-r-usss. He likes meeee~” 

“He does. Quite a lot actually. I’ve not seen him dote over a girl like this before, Miss Liz. But that’ll be our secret.” She smiled mischievously, and I liked the spark in those eyes. She was pretty. Pretty. Pretty.

“Thank you, Miss Liz.”

“Naaame? Whazzit?” 

“Rachel Hastings. Registered nurse and your best friend for the next three months. I’ve been hired to make sure you don’t keel over and die on Mr. Griffin.” Her tone had changed. I squinted in confusion and blinked blearily. I couldn’t think, it was like wading through molasses. Why was she being weird agains? 

“That’d be because I’m back, ratling.” Cyrus spoke up from behind Rachel. He loomed over the both of us easily, but the thing in his hand excited me. “PUPPY! Luce luce luce!” 

If it wasn’t for Rachel quickly holding me down, I probably would’ve torn my IV out. But it was worth it for the big goldendoodle plush toy Cyrus was dangling over my head. It was easily three feet from nose to plush butt and I needed it! I started crying and begging for Luce. ”Gimme puppyyyy. Hez my puppy. Minemineminemine.” I babbled. Grinning widely, Cyrus gently nestled the plush dog under my arm so its dark plastic nose was pressed to my right cheek. I turned and nuzzled into him happily.

“I wuv you, Lucey-looo. Wuv puppy. Puppy sooooft.” I moaned happily.

“That will be all for now, Rachel. I’ll give a shout if I need you to babysit the ratling again.” His eyes were very, very blue. Like little storm clouds. Pretty. “Why thank you~ Do you like your little Luce, Lizzy?” 

“Uh-huhs..he soft.” 

“Good. I got him as a special reward! Your surgeon and nurse said you went under well. And you’ve been so good since I woke you up yesterday. If you’re very good, you’ll even get more...Maybe I’ll get you a snow leopard next time. Those are just as silly and ferocious as you are, my lil ratling.” He tweaked my nose and smiled gently. I hummed happily in return and leaned into his hand. I liked kitties...Kitties are cute and fuzzy, but Cyrus reminded me of a wolf. Big, scary, likes to growl a lot. 

“Awh, would the doll like to have a little Master to snuggle.” He looked funny. What was wrong with his face? “Nothing is wrong with my face, you brat.” Now it was normal! I laughed and nuzzled my Luce. Cyrus scoffed and kicked back in his chair. I fell asleep like that, probably the best sleep I’d had in months.

. . Ღ . .

Over the next month, Rachel and I spent a lot of time together. It was probably the first time in my life that I was being doted on. Since I was in casts on all my arms and legs, she cleaned me, emptied the bedpan, entertained me while I was awake...Everything. The best thing is that she was never mean to me~! Even Courtney still beat me sometimes...But not Rachel.

“Racheeel…” I whined wiggling my fingers, “I’m so bored.”

“Uh-huh. And I’m sure if you explained to his lord majesty Cyrus that you broke your barely healed arms because you were _bored_ he’d be okay with that?” She rolled her eyes at me then plucked Luce off my bed. The stuffed toy was settled on the nightstand as she spread my gown. I ground my teeth but didn’t complain. Last time I did a few weeks back, it’d ended with her splinting my fingers after Cyrus made me obey. She moved methodically, cleaning the dozen piercings on my labia before moving to the clitoral hood piercing. After that she went up to my hips. Around my nipples she was far gentler, but I couldn’t help but cringe. I’m not sure if it was the surgery or the piercings or what, but they had become exponentially more sensitive ever since. She snickered, then finished up with my clavicle studs. I grimaced.

“He’s such a bastard, ya know that.”

“What happened now, Miss Liz?” Rachel asked nonchalantly. 

“He’s still _fucking me_ when you leave!” I snarled, throwing up my arms, then wincing. They were mostly healed now..but it was still sore. “Shattered legs, abdominal surgery, more piercings than I want to count, a boob job! And he’s _fucking me_ every chance he gets! He’s nothing but a goddamn manwhore!”

“It hurts…” I said in a quieter voice, rubbing my arms then clinging to Luce as Rachel returned him to me. “It hurts so much. And….and I know he’s doing it on purpose? The...The first night I was with him….was...was _wow_. I lost count. It was amazing. But now? Now he’s so...heartless.” 

“If you want him to be gentle that isn’t hi-”

“I don’t care about gentle! I…” I swallowed, throat thick with shame. God was I actually about to admit this outloud. “....I like it rough...I-i like domination….but he just won’t take me into account. He’s...he’s cruel about it.”

“Soooo you just want to cum?” She leered at me. “I’m sure if you begged nice enough, Cyrus would comply. From what I’ve overheard of him with his little-” she wiggled her fingers for effect, “girlies, he likes that. All I’m saying is that the man is keeping you as a sex slave for a reason. Besides, he’s an arrogant ass.”

I squinted at her. Then groaned and flopped back in the hospital bed. “Look. I hate my life. I’d much rather fucking end it, but since I CAN’T. I may as well live it up, alright? I have some rich psycho-”

“L-liz!” She hissed, but I went on without a care.

“-path up my ass, LITERALLY, all the time. I may as well get food, comfort, and fun out of it. A girl has to survive. I got into sex work for a-” This time I was cut off by the feeling of a familar hand in my hair and those icey storm gray eyes glaring into mine. I swallowed. “H-hello, Master G-griffin….” 

“Ratling.” He greeted me coolly, tightening his grip on my fistful of hair. “I think it’s time for her daily reaming, Rachel. You’re dismissed.”

Rachel scurried out quickly while I buried my face in Luce’s fur, trying to pretend I wasn’t here. Cyrus silently placed my legs into the stirrups on the bed, strapped them in, and lifted them into the position he was feeling. It hurt, but then it always did. Protesting never helped. Then he undid his pants and let them fall to the floor. I frowned at him then stared up at the ceiling. I didn’t know what to do. I refused to crawl to this man and beg him to treat me well. He was a bastard. I’d rather punch him, hurt him, wound his precious pride.

“You’re a shit lover, ya know that?” I finally said as he crawled over me, wedged between my legs. I glanced back at him. This was risky, but I was wagering on the fact that he’d spent far too much money and time on me to just sack me....Maybe. “I mean, fuck, what kind of man produces sex slaves but can’t even-hhhh!!” 

I was cut off by his massive cock spreading my pussy open, filling me to the brim, then forcing the rest of himself inside me just to watch me cry in pain. Too much. He was too big, too fast, too hard. Cyrus stilled and leaned down so his eyes were locked with mine. He had the angry look. Delightful. “I know what you’re trying, my little cocksleeve. Unfortunately for you, you haven’t _earned_ pleasure. Impress me and I’ll make you cum so much and so hard it hurts.” And with that he slammed his hips to mine. I yelped, arching up against him. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He started up at a relentless pace, eyes unfocused and distant as he jerked his hips. I laid still, baring my teeth and screwing up my face as I tried to keep quiet and still. He was racing towards his first orgasm fast and hard. It didn’t take too long before he was grinding the fat head of his cock against my cervix and rolling his hips with each spurt of cum. I stared at the ceiling, curling my fingers in the sheets and trying to swallow the bile in my throat. This was fine. It wasn’t happening. It wasn-

“FUCK ME!” I yelled, slamming a fist down on the mattress then wincing in pain. “Do you have NO refracto-” 

Cyrus thrust his hips then laughed as I squealed in pain. “That’s the plan, hun~ N’ not really. It’s part of why I picked you out, actually. Hard to find someone who keeps up.” He leaned down and kissed me, “But you’re as much of a sex addict as I am, Liz. You’re perfect...Well, almost. I’ll _make_ you perfect for me.” 

I was still in shock. Did he just...just kiss me? What. The. Fuck. Cyrus Griffin. Human trafficker. Kissed me. My mind was racing. Was he just manipulating me? Probably. Did he actually care in some way? ...No way. No? He couldn’t, could he. He’s heartless. I gulped, squeezing my eyes shut and hiding under my stuffed dog as he started jackhammering again. Each thrust made my legs hum in pain. I cringed and curled my toes. If he cares, it certainly isn’t about my physical wellbeing. This had to be a manipulation tactic. He was just fucking with me...Right? Cyrus Griffin didn’t care about _anything_. I’d yet to see him do anything but get mad about the loss of money or disobedience. His only feelings seemed to be pride and greed. But what about Luce? That was a generally kind gesture, right? But...then there was what he did to Courtney. Cyrus rolled his hips with a low groan and growled in my ear. He mouthed and bit at my neck as I mewled in pain. 

“C-can’t you ju-” I gasped between thrusts.

“No. Shut. Up.” He growled before slamming his hips into mine. I cried, tears dripping down my cheeks onto the sheets. I hate him. Fuck him and his kisses and his stupid stuffed toys. This time Cyrus took longer to cum, but when he finally did and slid off the bed I could breathe again. He wiped his cock off on the sheets then looked up at me and seemed to hesitate. There was a distinct look of dissatisfaction in his eyes.

“Feathers...fly.” It was quiet, slow. I swallowed, blinked, then gazed at Master and smiled.

He smiled bitterly and laced his fingers in my hair, pulling me to him for a kiss. I moaned eagerly, my mouth parting for him. When Master pulled away from me, I whimpered and raised my hands. He pushed them down, returning to his spot over me. 

“Beg like a good girl.” He whispered. He looked angry. Had I made Master angry?

I whimpered, drawing back and starting to cry. “I-i’m sorry, Master!! Please don’t be angry. I love you. Please, please, Master. Please forgive me for whatever I did wrong. I promise I want your cock.” I felt in a heady daze as Master seemed to relax. His hands left scorchingly warm trails down my body and I rolled my hips against him. The slight tease of the fat head of his cock drew a pathetic mewl from my body. 

“M-master~!!! Please fuck me? Your cock makes me feel so good. I need it.” I keened. Master complied, slowly pushing the tip of his cock into me. I moaned, head falling back in delight. He moved slowly, pushing in inch by inch, admiring the way my slick quim gave way before him. Gentle fingers traced the edges of my slit before they teased my clit.

“You stretch so beautifully for me, Liz. Such a good girl.” He whispered, keeping his eyes on where our bodies were joined. As soon as I hummed agreement, he jerked his hips forward suddenly.

I gasped and surged to meet him against my restraints and injuries. Strong hands on my thighs forced me down as Master thrust into me. He was gentler than last time. Fingers working against my clit as he rolled his hips steadily. His cock brushing against my cervix as he slowly edged himself and me. I panted, mewling and eager for the tide of pleasure I could feel building up. My body tensed, arching...and then he stopped. I cried, fingers scrunching in the bedding as Cyrus stilled and removed his fingers from the bundle of sensitive nerve endings. What..but! But I was being good!

“When you can do this without the magic words, Liz, I’ll reward you.” He murmured into my ear, and when he pulled away from me his eyes looked dark, angry. I cowered, feeling distraught at my failure to please him. He sighed again, gently pet my head and then drew his hips back. The tip of his cock rested against the opening of my pussy, a gentle pressure. Then he snapped his hips forward. I screamed, trying to pull away. Even the daze of my hypnotic trance couldn’t protect Cyrus or me from the agony of what he just did. I sobbed, feeling like a failure for letting Master down as he ravaged me. It was like being torn apart by a wild, half-starved animal. He took and took and took. Endlessly. Thrice more Master found himself unraveling before he finally felt sated.

“Back to roost, Liz.” He murmured, extracting himself from between my legs. A horrified sob wracked my body as I felt his cum ooze out of me and onto the sheets. I pulled Luce over my face, sobbing into the fluffy toy. What had I done to deserve this? Why did he force these fictitious feelings upon me? I felt like I was going to vomit. I _needed_ to vomit. Maybe if I threw up enough of my innards it’d purge me of the knot of yearning and desperation that had formed in my stomach the moment he induced the trance. I heard him zip up and walk over, but I was stubbornly keeping my eyes away from him. Monster.

“Elizabeth. Look at me.” he spoke sternly. I pointedly didn’t move, but he just grabbed Luce away and forcibly turned me to face him. “It doesn’t have to be like this, you know. I _can_ be kind. I pay my employees well and treat my bedmates better...But if you keep fighting it will only get worse for you. I’ve gone through six women before you, Liz. I won’t like losing a seventh, but you're not irreplaceable yet. Make yourself as such and you’ll live a long, happy life.” 

“What’s that mean?” I spat, staring him down. Tears brimmed in my eyes. “You’re one of the richest men on the planet. You can clearly do as you please. What could I possibly do that would be so valuable?”

“You’d be surprised.” He replied, letting go and petting my head. “Be obedient, loveable. Find my every need then sate it...But you can start by doing well when my little sister visits in another month.” 

“Yeah….” He glared at me. “.....yes master.” I whispered in response. I didn’t want to...to be replaced by the vapid doll he’d forced into my head.

“Good girl. Tomorrow, I _will_ be up your tight little ass though...So maybe mentally prepare for it.” He said, grinning. He dropped Luce onto my face as he sauntered away. His tone was playful, but I wasn’t really sure if he was teasing me or serious. I wasn’t sure which was worse.


	4. Progress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm so very sorry y'all! Life got real busy around the holidays, and despite my best efforts other personal stuff kept me from writing very much. Even so, I've had this chapter done for so, so long..My god. Sorry. I'll try and hop back on the horse soon, I promise. <3
> 
> Anyways, after this chapter, two more remain in what I'll call "part one" of Griffin's Roost. There will only be two parts, and part two will be more focused on Cyrus & Liz's home life. And hopefully slow down a bit so we can all breath~!
> 
> Please enjoy my meager offering, may it be enjoyable.

. . Ღ . .

“It’s a bit scary...I think I’m starting to _like_ this.” I murmured into my lap. Rachel snorted as she helped me put on the boots. “I mean..I’ve had clients into this shit, but they always wanted me on top. I don’t like bullying grown men, but money is money.”

“But being bullied? Totally hot. I get it.” She drawled, rolling her eyes.

“Shut the fuck up! He’s- I-.....” I paused and looked away, flustered. “Look, it’s nice to go to bed worn out everynight and not be stuck awake thinking about sex all night.”

“Uh-huh.” Rachel hummed before sitting back. “I try not to judge those with Stockholm syndrome too hard. You have to survive this somehow. If fantasizing about his dick gets you through-”

I chucked Luce at her with a growl. I felt bad enough about the entire ordeal without her snarky input. “Shut up! Ugh. At least I have a roof over my head...and doctors and food.” 

She shrugged, kicked the plush toy to the single blanket I owned, and wheeled me over to the only piece of furniture in my closet-room: a table bolted to the floor. When she sat down we started playing with the deck of cards Cyrus allowed her to share with me. First was Go Fish. Then Battle. Hours went by like that: playing card games and talking. I wish we could play Canasta, but with one deck and two people...well, it was impossible. Thankfully, Rachel was easy to talk to so these days went by quickly. She listened well, laughed at Cyrus with me, even made fun of Phil and the other slave girls when I shared stories of my first few weeks. And sometimes she gave me news of the outside world. What the weather was like, her daily life when she had days off. Those were my favorites. These few hours of normalcy were a blessing, and I was growing to look forward to them. Every day that Rachel was late or didn’t show up, I would find myself struggling to focus and function.

“Rachel….How do I know what’s...what’s _me_ and what’s what he put in my head?” I asked, staring down at my hand then pulling one from the shuffled pile in between us. No match. 

“What do you mean?” She hummed, placing her newly made pair to the side.

“He...He has this trance-thing he puts me in sometimes. It’s like falling into a pile of cotton candy? Everything is warm, soft, hazy. I can’t think. Or if I can, it’s only about him and making him happy. I _love_ him like that. B-but it’s _not_ me. **It can’t be.** ” My voice pitched up, breath hiking as I began to panic. These thoughts had haunted me, day and night since that day in the hospital. And every subsequent time Cyrus whispered those two cursed words, I felt like I was losing more and more of myself to the bimbofied version of my personality he had made up for me. Most nights I still woke up in a cold sweat, feeling an urge to vomit up my insides.

Rachel paused, seeming unsure of how to really respond to that. Eventually she put her hand of cards down and sighed, “I fold..”

“You don-”

“Just shut up, Liz. Let me speak.” She raised a hand, hushing me. I growled, but complied. “You have to realize that women like you were always meant to be like this. You’re less. Base. You live off a primal need for release and praise. For your sanity...embrace it. This is a safe place, Liz. You don’t need to keep fighting the pressures of the outside world, you know.”

“Stop fighting every little thing he does. Stop fighting yourself. He hasn’t put some ‘fake you’ in! He’s just stripping away the mask society forced on a good submissive woman.” she smiled affectionately at me. “Just be a good girl. There’s no shame in accepting your proper spot at his feet. You obviously love it, you want it. I hear you whimper at night...Just accept that. _Enjoy_ it. You’ve been blessed with a rich, extravagant man that will trip over himself to make you happy if you let him.” 

The real me was a submissive, meek, love-struck woman? I...I wasn’t so sure about that one, but it would explain my feelings. I swallowed, staring at my cards before tossing them into the pile. Was I really just a vapid bimbo of a woman? I know I looked the part now, and some part of me had always liked big tits when I was younger...but I knew that was impractical. I’d never afford to make my body look like the doll I dreamed of. Nobody could actually _live_ in a body like that- like this!...Right? Or..or maybe I gave up on my own desires like Rachel said? Was that why I had pursued sex work? It was the closest I could get to the fantasy Cyrus offered me...I swallowed thickly, confused and feeling more unsure of myself than I had in years.

“So, what did you do yesterday? What _day_ was yesterday?” I asked, shuffling the cards. I was in desperate need of a topic change.

“Yesterday was a Friday. And I went out to the beach.” she hummed, grinning smugly at me. “I had one hell of a bikini on. Got to flirt with some cute girls. One of them was in this frilly piece that made her ass look _fantastic_. She came home with me~” 

“I fucking hate yooou.” I whined, leaning over the table. This was normal. This I could do. No submission or slaves or anything involved. “I want to go to the beach. And eat pizza! I don’t remember the last time I had pizza! What did she look like? Was she tall? Was she good in bed?” 

“Excellent~” Rachel preened. “And don’t worry, a little birdie told me he wants to take you someday. When you’re healed and-”

“Really?! Fuck, I can get out of this place?” I lunged forward. Suddenly, my cotton candy dream didn’t seem _so_ bad if I could enjoy the outside world again.

“Certainly~” Came a masculine purr from behind me. I half jumped out of my skin in fright. Cyrus wrapped his arms around me, one draped to fondle my breast while the other coiled loosely around my neck. I whimpered, feeling the inner bimbo clawing desperately for release while my stomach tied itself in nauseous knots. “If you behave and learn to be an obedient good girl, Lizzy, I’ll take you _everywhere_. That will be all for today, Rachel. When can she walk unassisted?” 

“Approximately three weeks, sir. Though only for short periods of time.”

Cyrus nuzzled into my neck and flapped a hand at Rachel. She skirted around us as she left. I swallowed, a little scared about what I’d be subjected to. He peppered me with kisses and nips. His large hands squeezed my breasts and I cringed back. They were still raw…

“Your training starts today, lil one.” He murmured, “We’ll discuss the concrete meaning of those pretty phrases you learned. Tell them to me, please? Quickly.”

“Know my place. Know my Master. Do as I’m told. Do not fight back. Act out of love not fear. Identify with my Master. Make Master’s life easier. Be adaptable. Be vulnerable. Strive for perfection.” I replied quickly. Evidently the hours of hypnotized coaching were effective. Maybe Rachel was right? This part came easy. Listen, answer, receive praise. _What are you?! A dog?_ hissed back the rational part of my brain. I whined softly at the contradiction. What would be best? What would be safest? I felt so confused...so lost.

“Excellent! Now, what’s your job, Liz?” He asked pulling me away from the table in the tiny box I called a room, and wheeling me through the facility to the dining room. The dining room was part of Cyrus’ suite of rooms he used while here. Supposedly, he had an actual house somewhere, but I had no idea where. He always seemed to be here. It was a large room, but really only had a table that would seat ten people in it. One door opened into the hallway to his suite, the other went somewhere I hadn’t been before. On the table was a bowl of..soup? Potato soup. 

“Uhm...to be your sex slave?” I half-asked, half-stated. Glancing between Cyrus and the dog bowl of soup.

“Go ahead, eat. This will be more of a lecture than anything.” He walked around and sat down across from me. “You are my slave in every respect. A pet, a dress-up doll, a maid, a sex toy...even a partner if you live long enough.”

I stared blankly at the dog bowl. Was he expecting me to lap it up? What did he want? “Lick it up, kitten. You have a tongue.” 

Oh. I could feel my face reddening as I lowered my head to slurp and lick at the warm soup. Really all I managed was covering my face in soup and spilling it on the table. My thighs squeezed together and I desperately tried to ignore the knot of need growing in my abdomen. But how many times had I fantasized about this? About being so utterly...dominated? I sank my teeth into a large chunk of potato and tried to focus on that instead of this humiliating realization. Potato always tasted good, regardless of if I was in my own personal hell or not, at least.

“Good girl~ It seems you’ve gotten to understand your place. Let me be clear. I hate how boring finished models are, so your training will be different. I like the way you fight back.” He rested his chin on his hands and leaned forward. “You’re going to be like a trained attack dog, Liz. You eat, piss, shit, and sleep when and where I say. You will learn tricks without complaint. You will roll onto your back and submit wholly and completely. Better yet, like a good hound, you will love me for it.”

I swallowed my mouthful of potato and lifted my head, soup dripping onto the table from my chin. Evidently the slow gears turning in my brain were obvious to him since he responded to my unasked question.

“You can speak freely for now if you’d like. I won’t punish you for it.” 

“What if I don’t love you?” I asked, voice soft.

“You will. In time. But for now, I’ll work with willing obedience.” He smirked at me.

“And if I don’t like what you do?” Though I already knew the answer. He didn’t care.

“You don’t have a choice. I’m not a client. You don’t get limits. You’ll learn to love it or you’ll fail.”

“If I do like what you do?” The words felt like poison on my tongue. I regretted the question as soon as I asked it. It was a betrayal of myself to his man….One he’d use to pry me apart and shatter me to pieces. Why did I open my mouth? Rachel _was_ right. Only a pathetic creature who knelt at others’ feet would _like_ this...Want more of it.

“Tell me. I may do it more. Or it may be removed as punishment for misbehavior.” Cyrus hummed and bore down on me. “Which, I must assume you do so enjoy being humiliated don’t you? What a cute little slut. No wonder you were such a successful prostitute before I nabbed you~”

I blushed further and looked down as a small thrill ran down my spine. He just chuckled and then continued. “Like I told you after your surgery, I can be a wonderful Master. While you’re with me, you’ll get access to the finest doctors, clothes, and toys money can buy….if you behave. I like happy pets. Happy, well-fed cats go into heat more often. And as I’m sure you’ve noticed, Liz, I’m a man of many needs.”

“Too many….” I muttered into my bowl of soup. Then I glanced up and stared Cyrus down carefully. “Those ten things...You said they were guidelines. So what are the rules?”

His razor blade smile widened into a wolfish grin, flashing those sharp canines of his. “I’m so glad you have a few brain cells left after those three months of bashing your thick skull in. One. You will address me as Master or Master Cyrus. No other person is addressed with that title. They will get sir, ma’am, miss, mister, madame, whatever. Be respectful, but they are _not_ your Master.”

“Two. You will be obedient to me at all times. Disobedience will result in a punishment. If I order you to disobey and you do so well, I will make sure your ‘punishment’ is fun for you. If you fail to disobey well, I will punish you harshly.” 

“Three. Trust. I will trust you to obey. You must trust me to lead you well. I have our mutual best interests at heart. Trust will be rewarded highly.”

“Four. Think freely. I want that brain of yours working. Be clever, be amusing, be thoughtful. Do not lapse into conformity or ease. If you have questions about my decisions, you may ask me if you meow to my satisfaction.”

“I-” He tsked and waggled a finger. I glowered, but complied in the most deadpan tone I could manage. “Meow.”

“Good enough for a first try. Ask away.” The amusement in his gaze filled me with a strange urge to perfect my meow. Maybe if I did he’d smile?

“Rules three and four seem contradictory. How can I trust you if I second guess all of your decisions.” I rubbed the soup off my face then licked my hand clean, staring at him. He was smiling again. It was weird to see his face like that. He growled, he smirked, he didn’t smile. It almost made him look handsome. Which was illegal considering what a massive asshole he was.

“Trust me to do my best to make good decisions. If you are confused, such as now, ask. Questions meant to undermine my authority will be punished as they break rules two and three.” He explained, shrugging like it was all so simple. Like I could just...what? Ignore the way looking at him filled me with a crushing mix of excitement and sheer terror? Like I didn’t want to throw up until I was an empty husk when he touched me? Bastard. But if I didn’t follow these I’d be killed. Or spend the rest of my life crippled because I pissed him off that day. 

“Yes, Master.” I murmured in response, staring down at my soup as I tried to think. As I learned on my first day this place was a labyrinth of halls, doors, and torture chambers. Cyrus had handlers, guards, and even doctors here to subdue, break, and rebuild us. All it took to turn me into a brainless pile of mush was two stupid words from his mouth and I’d crumple. Besides, I didn’t even know everything they did to me in that surgery. Or what the security on this place was like...I swallowed thickly. I was trapped. This was my life now. It’d be better to accept it instead of fighting tooth and nail, right? It’s clear he doesn’t plan to kill me unless I ruin his game. And games take two to play, so what can I get out of this situation aside from a bed to sleep in?

“Finish your meal. That’s all you get until we finish your training for today, Liz.” Cyrus said before pushing back from the table and walking away, calling back over his shoulder. “I have paperwork to do. When you’re done come to me in my office.” 

Once he was gone, I grabbed the bowl and tipped it to my lips, drinking the creamy broth as fast as I could. If I played this right, I could be a powerful woman. Slave or not, if Cyrus valued my brain would he value my input? I could manipulate him into treating me like a queen in this fucked castle. Food, sex, medicine, games, clothes, jewelry anything I want...I could finally have it. An easy, cushy life. And all I had to do was please this man? Well, it was better than getting my skull bashed in or selling myself on the streets every night. I tamped down on the rising pitch of anxiety that threatened to overwhelm me if I gave it half a chance. I had to do this. I had to wrap him around my little finger to survive. I’ll play your game, Cyrus Griffin. But you better be ready for me. 

I dropped the dog bowl with a loud ‘clack’ and pushed my wheelchair back from the table. I was determined. I wouldn’t be a useless piece of meat anymore. I wouldn’t just lay there and take it. As I wheeled myself back the way we came, I was thinking. What did I know about Cyrus? Not much. What made him happy? Cumming. Money? What else?...By the time I arrived at his office, which was slightly less in shambles than how I had left it months ago. I hadn’t a clue what I could do to please him except try during sex. Cyrus was sitting at his desk, filling out forms. I didn’t speak, instead waiting in the doorway silently. The man was clearly absorbed in his work and I didn’t want to get smacked.

. . Ღ . .

“Good girl.” He said as he looked up at me finally, once he had finished a stack of papers. 

The man pushed his files and trays to the side, clearing off most of his desk. Then he got up and walked towards me. He pushed a small white ball into my mouth, forcing my jaw open to do so. At first, I refused to swallow it terrified it was some kind of poison. Then I realized it was chocolate, white chocolate to be specific...My favorite… I sucked on the truffle as the man extricated me from the wheelchair and carried me over to his desk. When Cyrus plopped me down on it, I realized where this was going. A confusing knot of terror and excitement weighed heavy in my stomach. Quickly I choked down the candy and grabbed his tie and looked up at him, trying to keep up the seductive mask I had used our first night together. I fluttered my eyelashes and smiled coyly.

“M-master..” My voice cracked as the terror clawed at my insides. Fuck. Okay, breathe. Try again. He was staring down at me, brows raised and lips slightly upturned. Obviously this was amusing to him. “Master, please, let me adore you first. I want to show the respect you deserve!” 

That got his eyes to widen a bit and he smirked. Cyrus stopped pushing forward, and held still. I swallowed my nerves and got to work. I undid his tie, throwing it to the floor. Then I ran my shaking hands down his chest. Cyrus grabbed my wrists and leaned down, his nose a hair’s breadth from mine.

“Liz~” He purred, “Relax, won’t you. You won’t get in trouble for trying to have some fun yourself. I think we both know where you belong in our relationship.” 

I swallowed again and took a few slow, deep breaths. _He’s just a client. He’s just a client. **He’s just a client.**_ When Cyrus seemed satisfied he pulled my hands to his collar then let me go. With deft fingers I unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it away from his chest as I went down. I was startled to see dermal studs dotting over his collar bone. In all the times I’d stared at this man, I didn’t remember seeing those. I touched them with a gentle finger then couldn’t help but giggle at the absurdity. We matched! Cyrus let me admire him, thankfully. If he had rushed me any, I likely would’ve collapsed into a sobbing heap. He groaned as I brushed teasing fingers over his nipples and dug his nails into my hips when I snapped the waistband of his pants. For a few blessed moments I forgot the hell I was in, I was just sleeping with a man I found attractive. This was fun. My clenched muscles slowly relaxed and I let out an unsteady breath. I glanced up at him, grinning, and saw him staring down at me. His gaze was filled with an odd mixture of pride and lust. He lunged down, one hand moving to lift my chin as he kissed me. I yelped against his mouth, pushing my hands against his chest in a panic. I struggled in vain, my fear springing to life as I cried against him. Cyrus just pushed me down with his body weight, and I eventually closed my eyes and gave in. Just a client. Just a client. Just a client. While my arms wrapped around his neck and my fingers tangled in his hair, Cyrus was running his hands over my body. 

“You are such a good girl, Liz~” He whispered into my ear as he gently fondled and squeezed my breasts. I gasped and moaned loudly as he tugged on one of my nipples. It hurt so good. “I’m so proud of you for picking this up so quickly!”

Cyrus bit down on my neck, tearing a garbled moan from me that swiftly turned into a keening mewl as he sucked on my skin. I squeezed my eyes shut, bucking up against him. When he pulled back panting, I only had a few moments of respite before he was digging his teeth into my shoulder, then my breasts, my stomach, my thighs. He covered me in more hickies than I wanted to count. Cyrus grabbed my hips and pulled me to the edge of the desk where he proceeded to consume me. His tongue ran briskly over my labia, pushing at my clit in quick, shallow swipes. He began to suck, kiss, and lick at my pussy and I could only knot my fingers in his hair and cry from the relief I’d been yearning for for months. It didn’t take him long to push me over the edge the first time considering I’d been hanging on it for months. Even the slightest tinge of pleasure sent me spiraling. I tried to squeeze my thighs shut, but his strong hands forced them apart and he growled. 

“Open, Elizabeth. Did I say I was done?” 

“N-no, Master!” I gasped, complying and melting under his authoritative tone. This was the kind of scene I had finished myself off to in the dark of night more times than I could count. 

I could feel the sneer against my skin as Cyrus began to eat me out again. He removed one of his hands from holding my thighs open to finger my with it, letting his tongue focus on my clit. His first finger slid in easily, then the second. The third took only a minimal amount of pressure. _That_ drew another chuckle from the man as he dragged his teeth over the small bundle of nerves between my legs. I mewled, jerking forward onto his fingers. Cyrus began pumping them in and out of me, spreading them apart just to listen to me moan. When my pussy clamped down around him, another orgasm, Cyrus formed his hand into a “bill” and pushed the rest of his fingers into me. His hand sank into the knuckles. I yelled wordlessly, eyes rolling back as I rolled my hips forward needing _more_. The rest of his hand was pushed into me and my orgasm didn’t stop. I was still crying and shivering in pleasure. Cyrus curled his fingers and started to fuck me with his fist. I clapped my hands over my mouth, trying not to sob. My body was wound tight, tendons and muscle straining as I quivered in pleasure. When Cyrus returned his mouth to my clit, he did so with a vengeance. It didn’t take long before I came again. And when I did, I felt a sudden release. I felt lighter, empty, like I was on cloud nine. Every muscle in my body melted away and I went limp. But more than that, when I managed to raise my head and look at him, Cyrus was clearly wet.

“O-oh god, Master I’m- ohgod. Ohgod ohgod ohgod!” Did I piss on him?! Oh god that was disgusting he’d fucking kill me-

Instead, Cyrus swept me up in a kiss. His lips tasted salty, tasted like me, and he didn’t _smell_ of urine. When he pulled back for breath, I was dazed and he was about to just tear the buttons and hooks off his slacks instead of taking them off. He was growling in frustration when I reached out and undid the hook & eye with shaking hands. I hardly had a moment of them being off before Cyrus was on me like a starved wolf. Only once he had hilted himself in my stretched pussy and was grinding his hips against mine did he seem to calm down enough to talk. 

“Gods, I love you.” He groaned between nips to my chest. “You’re perfect, Liz~ Ooh, I cannot _wait_ to make you do that more.” The look in his eyes when he locked his gaze with mine made me shudder, whether it was excitement or fear I wasn’t sure.

Then he fucked me, hard, until he came. Cyrus may have been more doting and patient, but he was still Cyrus. He was a relentless lover who’s only pace was full throttle until he came. But this time, after being prepared and played with it wasn’t agony. It was heavenly. I was stretched open by his massive cock, and the way it ground against my cervix only enhanced how stuffed I felt. I moaned, arching into his thrusts and letting him take me as he pleased. When he came, cock throbbing as he pumped me full of his cum, my eyes rolled back and I came undone for him yet again.

“M-mhh..C-cy-” He shoved his thumb in my mouth, gripping my chin and forcing me to look at him.

“Ssshh, kitten. You’re being such a perfectly good girl. I’d hate to have to punish you.” 

I could only nod and moan eagerly around his thumb as he started hammering his hips against mine once more.

. . Ღ . .

I yawned, slumping down in my seat. Watching Cyrus do paperwork was so boring. It was like all he did day-in and day-out was filling out spreadsheets on his computer or approving surgeries and filing paperwork for the slaves. Like a dog breeder, really. That was the weirdest part. It all seemed so normal to me now, to think of my fellow men and women as nothing less more than animals. Afterall, I was one such animal… I rubbed my cheek and yawned again, starting to doze off as I dreamed of collars and fluffy paw gloves.

“Kitten, your posture is incorrect.” Cyrus tutted, smacking the top of my head. I jerked awake with a cry, raising my arms to shield my head and cowering back. After a few moments of nothing, I peered up into a deep, troubled frown.

“Sorry, Master Cyrus…” I mumbled, moving to sit up straighter in my chair, crossing my arms in my lap as he’d instructed.

“Much better~” He praised and supplied me with another candy treat.

I moaned happily and sucked on the white chocolate truffle while he went back to filling out his paperwork. In the weeks since I’d first started playing along with him, Cyrus had almost done a complete turn around. He was kind: bathing me and brushing out my hair every night, sending me to bed with kisses-- amongst other things--, and fucking me into a pleasure induced comatose every day. He was strict. I was to have proper posture at all times, to address him properly, not have any attitude. But my life was good. I slept in a comfortable pile of blankets and pillows every night, I had three warm meals every day (that I cooked for us), and access to running water for daily baths and showers. It was nice to see him outside of the agony and terror I had even just a few weeks ago. I’d been with him for months now, and everything was so...so good! I just needed to do my part, and he’d do his.

I busied myself with thinking of fun ways to tease Cyrus while he couldn’t fuck me senseless due to the mounting piles of administrative work he had to get done. He was prone to procrastination, and Mr. Burke-- Phil-- was the only person with enough spine to stand up to him about it. I had quickly learned he liked getting worked up and edged throughout the day. At first, that had been an accident, but the results worked so well I had kept at it. So I slid two fingers between my thighs to rub my clit. I let memories of our previous night fill my head: of being dragged around with a leash and choked out on his cock. All it took was a small hitch in my breathing to catch his attention. He glanced at me quickly, frowned at me, and tried to stay focused on the sheets of paper before him. I grinned and decided to up the ante a bit. My other hand found its way to one of my breasts and began to play with my nipple. I moaned and rolled my hips forward. 

“M-maaaaster~” I called out theatrically, keeping an eye on the blond. He gritted his teeth, and I could see the tent forming in his slacks. Victory was mine. Making sure I sounded as similar as I could to the obnoxious, fake pornstar-moan I know he hated, I continued. “Mhhnn, I need Master!! And his big, perfect cock. I need him to breed me. I’m in heat, Master~” 

Cyrus inhaled, slowly, then let out a heavy breath from his nose. He pushed back in his chair and stared me down for a few moments. “Elizabeth, you test my patience. Do not make me punish you, whore.” 

I was thrilled at the use of the word ‘whore’ and grinned at him, straightening out. “Of course not, Master. You’re too great to be toppled by one such as lil ole me!” 

He narrowed his eyes, obviously knowing I was antagonizing him. We sat in a deadlock for a few deliciously long moments before he pressed a button on his phone. “Rachel, please come take the cocksleeve for her daily rehab and training. She is also to miss her lunch for insolence.” He ground out. Oof. Maybe the sarcastic moaning had been a _bit_ much.

I pouted at him as Rachel quickly rushed to take me away. As we made it out the door I stuck my tongue out at him. Cyrus growled, but didn’t say anything. It had taken some time, but he was a soft man to those things he valued. And _I_ happened to be one such valuable object. As long as I stayed within the bounds of playful and not disobedient, I had quite a wide allowance for behavior.

. . Ღ . .

“You were right, Rach!” I chirped. She snorted and kicked the door (to what I have dubbed the “doctor’s office” in the facility) closed. It was outside of Cyrus’s house-suite, part of the proper facility. It had been set up with parallel bars for me to strengthen my legs on. Which, unfortunately for me, Rachel was very keen on using. One hour a day of physio: the bars, leg rolls and lifts, stretches, windmilling, shoulder rolls.

“Of course I was~ I’m a genius nurse.” She scoffed, offering a hand to help me up. “Now it's time for physio.”

I sucked air in through my teeth as I slowly hauled myself across the length of the bars. I didn’t look up, knowing that if I had to watch the slow crawl of the distance I’d lose hope and give up. Each step was mildly more agonizing than the last, but less so than the day before. The minutes passed in silence as I gently plodded forward, one foot ahead of the next. It wasn’t until Rachel started clapping and I bumped into the wall that I realized that for the first time I’d actually managed to do it. I’d gone the whole distance!

“Good job~!!” She cheered, clapping me on the shoulder. I grinned up at her. “I’d say once we finish up the rest of your exercises, we can actually try some of the posture training Cyrus wants done before Miss St. Clair comes to visit.” 

So we sat down on the floor, giving me a few minutes to breathe, then Rachel walked me through my arm exercises. After fifty circles of each arm, she pushed on my back as I bent to touch my toes. It hurt. A lot. But I’d faced worse, much worse, at the hands of Cyrus and that alone kept me from crying. This was nowhere near as bad as the cattle prod, thankfully. Another few moments of break then I flopped onto my back as Rachel got up. Ostensibly, we traded places as she took up position by my feet. I raised my right leg and she gently grabbed my ankle and started to help me stretch by pushing it over my torso. I gritted my teeth and rolled my hips up to work with her. This process was repeated for my left leg then thrice more all together. By the end I was tired and sore and everything ached. But I wasn’t done, oh no, one more thing. A torture device designed in the pits of hell. I glowered at her as she brought out my mortal enemy. The roller. A thick foam cylinder designed for sports freaks who liked to stretch their legs and murder their muscles after running or whatever. 

“I hate you. I hate this. Fucking...God.” I grumbled, rising into a side plank as she slid the foam monstrosity under my leg. I slowly lowered myself onto it, hissing in pain then began the slow, torturous work of rolling my leg. Rachel yelled if I went too fast, so this wasn’t something I could just speed through to ignore the pain. Once my demonic nurse was satisfied, I flipped over and repeated it again on the other leg. Finally, blessedly, done for the day I collapsed into a heap on the floor. “You’re the devil.”

“That’s Miss devil to you, Lizzy.” She tutted, nudging my ribs with a gentle toe. “Cyrus wants you to do position and etiquette training today. You can have a ten minute break, and I’ll get the stuff we need to practice set up in the dining room.

. . Ღ . .

I sighed softly as she left the room and stared up at the ceiling. The heavy hunk of metal around my neck was blisteringly uncomfortable. I was pretty sure if I ever took it off I’d have a scar around my neck from the amount of chafing the damn thing did. I was tired. This was hard. My body was almost healed, but my mind was still cracked to pieces, and the glue wasn’t helping it stick. Cyrus was nice now, and I definitely enjoyed our sex a lot more but...He still wasn’t what I’d call a good man, was he? And every day, Rachel got pushier with being “above” me. I swallowed, struggling not to cry. She was my one friend in this hell pit, but friendship here was different than it was out there. Here it meant helping me survive, showing me where I belonged….Which. Which I wasn’t even sure of. I told her she was right before this, and to a degree she _was_. I was starting to enjoy this. In some sick twisted way, I was happy here. But couldn’t I get this happiness elsewhere, without being a literal slave? Thoughts chased themselves in circles endlessly, one vanishing into the other as I thought about what I was going to do. I still couldn’t escape, even if my arms and legs were totally healed.

I went to bed each night happy, fed, and warm. Which is better than it used to be. Chris certainly didn’t make sure all of us had food. Let alone access to doctors. But at the same time, I was able to actually _choose_ when, how, and why I did things. Here I was a slave. And not one for play. Cyrus had made plenty clear to me that once I was healed, I would learn to cook and clean as pleased him most. I’d never been one for relationships, nor for housekeeping. I was bad at it. I didn’t like it. But if I refused, I’d die….and I didn’t want to actually do that. As miserable as this was. As awful as Cyrus _could_ be, I liked being alive. I liked the concrete things we got to do. I liked the way he fed me candy, brushed my hair, and fucked me delirious. I liked the way he hurt me during sex. I liked how he kissed me. How he looked at me. I was an object, sure, but something beloved. Like a prized pet someone wanted to show off. Like a favorite trophy you kept shined up on a shelf. For the first time in my life it wasn’t “ugh...Cecilia.” It was “Liz, darling~!!” I was wanted, appreciated, loved. My family abused me, my friends didn’t exist...My clients saw me as raw meat. At least I was sort of sure Cyrus knew I was human under the stupid, uncomfortable collar. Was all that worth it? Was it good enough to forgive him? Was it good enough to make this not hellish? 

The more my head spun as I tried to wrap my head around this, the more and more convinced I became that, to some degree, Rachel _was_ right. I was a submissive person. I liked knowing where I stood and what was wanted of me. These clear rules? Guidelines? They worked out….But I didn’t like the abuse. I didn’t like getting surprise jabbed with a cattle prod or having my limbs snapped like twigs. I wasn’t looking forward to having my body up for use by every friend and family member who came for dinner.

“Liz~! Time for practice.” Rachel cooed from the doorway. I rolled my head over and blinked. Oh. Time to...to go train or whatever. I swallowed and slowly pushed myself up. She offered me something new: crutches. I slowly eased onto my feet with assistance from the parallel bars and took them. Banishing my thoughts was hard, but the small hand on my wrist managed it. I smiled at her as she pulled me to the dining room. At least I had one good friend without ulterior motives here.

. . Ღ . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ..so uh? subtly? not my greatest skill. But, hey! It'll be fun, lol. See y'all next update. Feel free to add me on discord:  
> Monstrous PupPup#9591


	5. Test

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Liz has a panic attack, makes a snack tray, and we learn one of Cyrus's fetishes!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter features some dialogue from a certain someone written by the lovely Clairanette~! She’s been super helpful for this chapter. So please, enjoy! Posting again soon to keep on pace. I'm working on chapter 6 now. <3  
> -Blood Moon

. . Ღ . .

If my sense of time was in any way accurate, it had been about six days since Rachel had declared I was free to walk without crutches or assistance. When I woke up in my little nest this morning, it wasn’t to the usual of Cyrus jamming his dick down my throat. It was to his hand gently running through my hair. I blinked up at him in confusion, and evidently understanding my lack of understanding he started talking.

“Morning, kitten. Today is special. My little sister is coming to visit me here at the facility. You’ll be put through your ‘final exam’, so to speak.” He paused, fingers knotting in my hair and looking down at me with a serious glare. “Do not disappoint me, Elizabeth. If you fail here I cannot train you further. I need to return to my actual home soon, and I’d like you with me. If you cannot come with me you will have to be put down. Poor Phil couldn’t take the stress of dealing with you.”

I stared up at him, shaking. This was way, way too much all at once. This visit was supposed to be “the start” of me making him like me. Why was it suddenly my do or die moment?! My throat constricted as my heart hammered in my chest until everything ached. I squeezed my eyes shut, gasping uncontrollably. I couldn’t breathe; I couldn’t hear; I couldn’t think. I was going to die! I was going to trip or drop something and then I’d die and suffer a long, horrible death just like Courtney! Cyrus was going to skin me alive and make me into a pillow. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. I-i was going to die today. Was everything I worked so hard for worth noth-

_SMACK_ The warm crack of his hand on my face was like being doused in cold water. The shock of it alone stopped my breathing long enough that my brain seemed to right itself again. I curled up around Luce, clinging to the plush desperately. 

“Elizabeth, enough of that nonsense. Breathe.” Cyrus grumbled, though there was a hint of concern in his voice. “You’re plenty prepared for this. Or are you doubting my abilities?”

“N-no, Master…” I whispered into my stuffie’s fur. “I...I don’t want to die.”

“So don’t.” Cyrus got up, looking resigned to this being a long day. “Your instructions are on the table. I have work to attend to so I may spend the evening with my sister. You will _behave_ , Liz. Do not cause Phil any trouble today while you get prepared.”

. . Ღ . .

My table had a small whiteboard on it. There was no marker or anything else of note. I gently picked it up, trying to breathe slowly.

>   
> Daily Chores:  
> Clean yourself  
> Shower, hair, teeth  
> Dress in an appropriate garment from the supply closet  
> Prepare a snack for our meeting  
> All tasks should be done by 4 PM. You should be waiting in the dinning room for my return.
> 
> *Pull the rope by my bed for Phil. You are to address him as Mr.Burke.  
> 

Cyrus’s handwriting was surprisingly messy for a man who spent most of his life filling out paperwork. I managed a small giggle at that. Then came my next issue. Cleaning myself. Right, step one. I delicately placed Luce by the small whiteboard and pushed open the door to Cyrus’s room. He wasn’t inside, but a quick glance around found me eyeing a pale yellow sticky note on the bathroom door. _You may use my shower. A towel has been set out. Do not use my soaps._ was scrawled in the same chicken-scratch handwriting as the white board. 

“If I don’t use _your_ soaps, what soaps do I use?” I grumbled, pushing into the bathroom. I tried to think back to what he had used to clean me before, but honestly everything was a blur. Time in this place ceased to exist. My sleep was irregular, my days lasted eternities, meals came whenever Cyrus pleased. The only window was in his office, but I wasn’t in there every day, so it was hard to be sure. I swallowed and looked around the bathroom. It was pretty spartan. A polished metal mirror, solid granite counters, a simple shower and a toilet. Nothing sharp, nothing dangerous. No cleaners, no tools. I’d slept here for over a month, of course it had to be hazard proof.

I turned on the hot water and glanced at the soap. That was when I noticed a bottle of blue soap with what looked to be a kitten on the label. I picked up and frowned. _Hark’s Premium Kitten Shampoo! Guaranteed to make her coat shine. Scented with natural raspberry compounds._

“Ha...ha.” I growled, dropping it back down and stepping under the water. Obviously, Cyrus styled himself a jokester. I was less than amused. Even so, washing my hair went quickly. I hesitated for a bit then shrugged and slathered the stuff over my skin. It’s not like I had sensitive skin, and getting a proper soapy shower was great considering I’d only been allowed rinses over the past six months.

. . Ღ . .

I was sitting on the bathroom floor, huddled in the towel when Phil arrived. I felt awkward being naked around him, though obviously he’d seen me and every other woman who’d come through here in the nude. This was the first time I’d paused to take a good, proper look at Phil. He was a bear of a man: tall, thick-set, and covered in muscle. His face was torn asunder by a scar stretching from his left temple to the right corner of his mouth. He was also dotted with smaller scars, pock marks, and scratches on his face and what I could see of his forearms. I smiled weakly up at him. He grimaced at me. Though I couldn’t tell if that was just how he looked normally.

“S-sorry, Mr.Burke. Master wants me to get dressed, but...the door was locked, and I….I don’t know how to get to the right room.” I whispered, jerking my gaze away. If Cyrus didn’t kill me, I was pretty sure he would. 

“Sure thing, lovey.” He shrugged, his gruff voice care free. Next thing I knew I was being scooped up by this terrifying behemoth of a man. I shrieked, kicking out instinctively and trying to get away. Phil caught my foot, leveled one beady eyed glare at me and raised a brow. “Now, now. Don’t make me get out the cattle prod or tell Mr.Griffin you failed to obey.”

I gulped and nodded quickly. My hands shook uncontrollably as I tried to keep the towel over my chest. For his part, Phil didn’t seem to care about me much. He walked briskly and practically threw me on the floor once we arrived in the clothing room. I tumbled due to shaking legs when I tried to stand up; falling over pathetically. I crawled away from Phil before I struggled onto my feet. I tottered for a moment before stabilizing and glancing back. Phil was standing in the closed doorway, cold eyes on me. He was watching my every move. I wasn’t going to get up to anything, not that I had ever planned to. Today was life or death. I turned around quickly and made my way through the rows and rows of clothes. What would Cyrus like... 

Eventually, I settled on a pair of teal and white thigh-high socks, the accompanying garters, and a clingy sweater with a heart shaped cut-out in the chest in the same teal color as the socks. It was simple, flexible, and revealing enough that I thought Cyrus might like it while also allowing for a small modicum of coverage.

. . Ღ . .

The kitchen present in Cyrus’s suite was on the smaller side, but had enough food and counter space for what was needed. I sifted through all the cabinets, trying to figure out where everything was. Utensils, knives-- or I assumed knives since the drawer was locked shut-- dry snacks, all of it. In the fridge was an assortment of drinks, lunch meats, cheeses, and a few vegetables. I glanced back where my ever present stone-faced guardian stood. He seemed unconcerned. I sighed and rubbed my arms and paced as I thought. Cyrus didn’t seem to have a favorite food based on what he wanted. I didn’t know a thing about his sister. A quick glance at the clock on the oven told me it was 2:30 pm. I still had an hour and a half. That was a lot of time for making a snack tray, but a snack tray my life depended on? It didn’t seem like a whole lot suddenly. Okay, okay. Fancy rich people. Fancy rich people had stupid snacks. I tugged open the refrigerator once more and pulled out tiny carrots and celery. Then I hunted around for any signs of ranch dressing. Which was...lacking. Fuck. All dressings were mostly mayo, right? Mayonnaise, mayonnaise...Yes! I grabbed the jar and began hunting for other ingredients to make some, hopefully tasty, ranch dressing. Milk, sour cream? Or was it cream cheese? I stared at my feet, trying to remember those high school days back in a kitchen. But that was almost fifteen years ago, and fuzzy at best. Eventually, I grabbed the sour cream and poured it into a bowl of mayonnaise. The next thirty minutes I was mixing different seasonings and liquids into the bowl until it tasted right. I glanced at Phil again as I licked sauce off my finger. He looked mildly surprised. I grinned up at him, pleased I drew some sort of reaction from the stone faced man. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all? Next up would be cheese and crackers!

. . Ღ . .

I swallowed thickly, eyes down and knees shoulder width apart. Behind me, my fingers curled and uncurled as I waited in the corner of the room. It was 3:59 pm. I had set the table and put out snacks, but it'd already been ten minutes of waiting and my legs were shaking. They were still soft...still healing. I took slow, deep breaths. This was the break point: my final test.

"Liz~" Came the lilting call from the hall. Along with two sets of footsteps. One I recognized as Cyrus's...the other I didn't know. But when they walked into the room, I knew who it was instantly. The "little sister" he'd been talking about was, evidently, not so little. The family resemblance was obvious to me. She was similarly blond, beautiful, and even taller than Master. I kept my gaze to the floor, not speaking up until he came to a stop before me. Then, I dropped to my knees with legs like jelly and whispered greeting.

"Master...Miss St. Clair" I bowed and touched my face to the cold floor. The chill eased my anxiety and the throbbing pain in my legs. "Welcome home." He hadn't actually left, but close enough, right?

"See Candace!" Cyrus crowed, "She's well behaved now. Learning quickly."

"Hmmm....." Cyrus' little sister pushed past her brother, reaching out and cupping my chin in one hand, lifting my face up to look at her. "Elizabeth, right?"

I blinked, confused, then responded. "Y-yes ma'am..."

She was very, very pretty this close. And she looked much paler than he did. She smiled, placing her thumb on my lips to shush me. "I wasn't asking the slave." I flushed and lowered my gaze. Whoops...

Cyrus chuckled. "Yes, Elizabeth. But I find "Liz" or "cocksleeve" more fun. You should hear her mewl when I call her a whore. She loves it, sis."

God, god, why was he actually the worst. Could he shut up? I stared at the floor, praying it would swallow me up so I didn't have to listen to this shit. Cyrus leaned up to whisper something to his sister, though I didn't quite catch it.

"Are you sure?" Was all that I could hear from her, turning to her brother and smirking.  
I could hear her giggling under her breath, almost humming at me.  
"I guess she doesn't really have a choice, does she?"

"Not really~ She'll love it either way." Cyrus shrugged and started towards the table.

"I'll take my usual, Liz. Candace, just let her know what you want to drink. She'll fetch it for us." I barely kept myself from nodding along with him. No...no moving or talking. Just stay still, listen. Don't panic about what they'll do. _Stop worrying about what you can’t control! Focus on what you can._

"I might have to, later..." Her hand receded, finding its way between her legs, rubbing herself for just a couple of moments. "Iced tea with lemon?"

I swallowed then bobbed my head before rising and moving quickly to the kitchen. As soon as I was out of their sight I let out a sigh then started on getting Cyrus the noxious neon soda he drank and Candace her iced tea. When I returned, I set both drinks on the table where the pair of siblings sat then retreated to kneel by Cyrus's chair, waiting uneasily.

"Hmm..." She didn't take her eyes off of me as I knelt there, even as she lifted her glass to her mouth. There was a weight in that gaze. A silent, cruel judgement.

"And how are things going with her little friend?" She smirked, rattling the ice cubes in her quickly emptying iced tea, her piercing blue eyes continuing to stab at me. "What was her name, Rebecca? Ramona?"

"Hmm? Oh Rachel. Well. Liz tells her everything." Cyrus grinned in his razor thin way. I didn't need to see it, I could hear it by now. I swallowed thickly and tried to ignore the anxiety building in me.

"I know her favorite positions, her least favorites. All the things I do that she loves but is too ashamed to tell me. It's great fun."

"You're welcome, by the way." She seemed to chug the remainder of her iced tea. "It's the next best thing after installing a mansion-wide security system, after all... Though it does have some advantages~" She turned to Cyrus, holding up her empty glass and winking. "May I?"

"Certainly, sister dear." He flourished with a hand and nursed his drink. I, on the other hand, was shaking. No. No. No. Fuck no. Don't fucking do this to me, Cyrus. Rachel was the one good thing in my life! I knew...I knew she told him, but please don't be what I think it is....

Candace stood, making her way over to me and smashing the empty glass onto the floor next to me. "Whoops, I'd like a refill~"

I didn't reply, just started picking up the shards of glass to throw away with shivering hands. I felt numbness spreading through my body. If all she was going to do was break glass and laugh at me, this would be much easier than what Cyrus had spent the past week whining about and what his little morning threats implied. I all but ran to the kitchen. When I arrived there, I dropped the glass in the trash, grabbed a towel, and then filled a new glass. _In and out, Liz...They’re just fucking with you. Like he always does. Rachel is your friend. She just tells them what is asked so she doesn’t die. In. 1. 2. 3. 4. Out. 1. 2. 3. 4._ I returned, placed the glass down before Candace, bowed and backed up. She picked the glass up, kicking me in the backside with her black wedges as I walked away. I ground my teeth, but knelt to begin soaking up the spilled ice and water. _Don’t hit her. Just imagine the fun ways you could murder her._

"Awh, look at my lil street rat go~" Cyrus cooed. "Candace look! She's so quiet and well behaved. I wish you had seen her the first month or two~ She was sending me selfies at 4 am. So cute. I wonder if I could give her a special phone to get more" _Doubtful, Cyrus.._ I glowered at the rag as I shoved it into the carpet grumpily.

"Didn't you send me those selfies already? ...She's cute, that's for sure... but what's so special about her?" Candace continued to stare at me, watching intently as I went about cleaning the floor like I was a fucking maid. "Is she just special because she's survived this far? Because if that's all she's got going for her, I'm not impressed..."

She brought the glass of iced tea to her icy cold lips, taking another sip of it. "And if that's the case, I'm most certainly not going to let her touch me, brother dearest."

I could feel Cyrus's blue-gray gaze on me, watching, waiting. I turned to glance at him as Candace insulted me. I could feel my lips curl in abject disgust at the comments despite my best efforts to school my face. He raised his eyebrows, gaze flicking towards his sister. Fine! Okay! She wanted special? I'd give her fuckin' special as soon as I knew Cyrus wouldn't gut me. I didn’t like having some stuck up Florida princess act like she was just soooo peachy. 

"She's special for what's still in that little head of hers. And she, ah, keeps up with me easily. If you'd like a demonstration of why I like her...I could allow it."

"A small demonstration is clearly necessary." Came the royally arrogant scoff. Truly, the family resemblance was strong in these two. It took all my will power and my teeth puncturing my cheek to stop me from rolling my eyes and saying something stupid. I swallowed my own blood easily as Cyrus’s lips spread in that devilish smirk.

"Very well." Cyrus snapped his fingers. "Liz~"

I whipped around and pounced. All of the rage and panic I’d been containing for weeks came out in a burst of violence. The first thing I did was grab the cup, jerking it up to slash tea in her face. While she was distracted, my knee slammed down into her crotch, even women cringed at that. I glared down at her with rage in my eyes, hands gripping her hair. 

"I would fucking stab you if I had a knife, you god damn uppity piece of fucking trash. I hate you rich people. I hate your slave bullshit. You're lucky I’m unarmed, and you’re even luckier my life depends on his pompous ass liking me." I spat on her, slammed her head back into the chair, then slid back and walked to Cyrus's side.

"You... fucking... cunt... How is that not off limits for her..." Candace slowly sat up, wincing with pain as she grasped at her crotch, clearly in a lot more pain than I had expected her to be. “I swear to god, Cyrus.. you'd better have that thing put down..."

"I could never, lil sis~ It's so much fun when she gets wild in bed. Truly, nothing like it." He snickered, propping his chin up on his hands.

I leered at her from my place at his side. _Fucking suck on it, bitch!_ Though, I couldn’t help but take note of her seemingly prolonged feeling of pain. The intensity of her reaction seemed excessive compared to most of the other women I’d had to fight over the years. I furrowed my brows, staring at the ground as I came to my conclusion quickly.

"Then she'd better come kiss it better!!" She continued to whine, glaring at me with her fiery red eyes. “How about you come put your mouth where your money is, _cocksleeve_."

I stiffened at the name. I was his cocksleeve, not hers. Anyone who thought they’d get to call me whatever they wanted was sorely mistaken. My nails dug into my palms as I glared first at her, then stared at Cyrus. He raised his brows in that infuriatingly impassive way of his. I swallowed thickly, bile rising in my throat. No….No, he wouldn’t make me, would he? Cyrus had never made me sleep with anyone else.

"Liz, I do believe you owe my sister an apology...so don't look at me like that." Maybe it was just projection, but something about his response seemed less than eager.

I swallowed and dragged myself over to her. Fine. I'd fucking eat her out. Or blow her, or whatever the fuck she wanted. But I would not be used like a fuck toy by some stuck up brat. As I approached, the fact that Candace seemed to tense up instinctively filled me with pride. Hah! She was nowhere near as good at hiding her fear as she needed to be. She was no untouchable ice queen, just a spoiled brat.

"Be gentler... Please..." She sat back up in her chair, taking deep breaths as she tried to calm herself down. "I'm not as.... sturdy... as my brother..."

I knelt in front of her chair, spread her legs apart, and pushed up the skirt of her blue dress. Under it was a matching pair of lace panties, and as I pulled those to the side I saw why she took so long to recover from a knee to the groin. I grinned. Well, it was probably a good thing. I was more in practice with dick anyways.

“Don’t worry. I’m a professional~” I did my best to mimic Cyrus’s wolfish snarl. Hopefully, Candace found it as terrifying as I often did. It was the merciless look of someone who was about to tear you apart for their amusement. The way she tensed up again reassured me it was effective.

I swallowed her soft cock down easily, deep throating it as I paid special attention to her reactions. What did she like? My hands rested on the pale thighs of the woman before me. Her legs jerked in response. I raised my brows before rising off her cock and popped my lips with a sharp laugh. My thumb gently rubbed her thigh, watching as her body arched forward. I loomed forward and ran my tongue over her skin from knee up to where her leg met her torso. Then came the slow, tantalizing peppering of kisses, nips, and licks. 

A moan escaped Candace and as soon as her hands reached for my hair I gently dug my teeth into her thigh. She moaned and bucked her hips up as my other hand trailed fingers and nails over her other thigh.

When I pulled back, wrapping fingers around the base of her now hard cock I sneered, “I see size runs in the family, hmmm?”

A pliant tongue pressed against the swollen head of Candace’s cock. Slow, methodical, teasing. The sudden jerk of Candace’s hips drove the cock into my mouth. I jerked back in surprise and raised my gaze to observe Candace’s lust-glazed eyes and flushed face. So she had no self control. Cute. With a roll of my eyes I drove my head forward, rising up and angeling my head and body so I could swallow her whole cock down with ease. I’d had months of practice being awoken via skull fuck. Sucking off some simpering brat was _nothing_ compared to the brutality of her brother.

Candace’s hands tangled in my hair as she jerked and bucked her hips in an uneven staccato. Soft moans and hums thrummed through the thick cock in my throat while my fingers played with her thighs: soft caresses, scratches, and squeezes. I swallowed and gagged, keeping my nose pressed to her crotch as often as I could. If I didn’t, she tried to yank me there anyways, and I had no patience being man handled by some upstart girl.

“F-fuck-” She choked out, arching into my mouth. I responded by hollowing my cheeks and humming gently, eyes smug. Candace glared at me while the sound of Cyrus’s laughter filled my ears.

I closed my eyes, falling into an easy, well practiced rhythm. This girl was easy. So easy to close my eyes and dream back to the days when this was just work and not my waking nightmare. Time ceased to exist, I was drifting in a blank void disconnected from my actions even as my body responded to Candace’s signals. When she came it poured down my throat and pooled in my mouth. I pulled back, digging my teeth into the head of her cock just to be mean before letting her go and swallowing down her cum. I glanced back at Cyrus with raised brows. Was I done now?

"Mmmph!!" Candace whined loudly behind me, breathing heavily as she rode out her orgasm.  
"You bitch..."

I didn’t reply, just smiled up at her as I turned around. Slaves didn’t talk back, right? Cyrus snickered loudly behind me.

“She bit me the first time I fucked her face. She learned her lesson after that.” Cyrus drawled, swirling his drink. “So do you see why I keep my Liz around?”

He made a ‘come here’ gesture and I obediently knelt at his side. He ran his fingers through my hair affectionately. “Like a well trained attack dog and a sex toy all in one.”

"Her cocksucking skills aren't the important part..." Candace sat up, biting her bottom lip and pouting at me, her cheeks flushed with anger.  
"It's her devotion that's important..."

“Oh she’s plenty devoted.” Cyrus replied. “I mean...well. Look how sweet she is to me~”  
I leaned into the head pats for dramatic effect. Anything to piss this bitch off. It gave me much joy.

"I don't just mean the spiteful kind of devotion, Cyrus..." She shook her head. "Do you think she would really stay with you if she had a choice?"

“In time.” He smiled and I felt his grip tighten in my hair. I moaned softly and leaned back. “She responds well to positive reinforcement, and I happen to know she takes great pleasure in what we do.”

He lifted me slightly before continuing, “Well, Darling, what’s better? Life with me or living in the streets with your pimp?”

“Master.” I replied easily. I may not like it, but it was true. At least here, I wasn’t going to get shanked for my nightly earnings and never had to worry about STDs. And if I behaved...well, I was treated much better. If I didn’t, Cyrus could actually take me to the doctors. Unlike Chris.

"If you think she's right for you... then fine~"  
Candace almost smiled, shaking her head at me.

"And don't you dare tell anyone about what's between my legs... You now know my little secret, and I know all of yours... we're even."

“Even if I would talk who exactly would I-“

As soon as the words came out of my mouth I knew what to expect. Didn’t stop it from hurting or from surprising me. I wheezed as Cyrus backhanded me. I stayed hunched over, holding my cheek and glaring at the floor. Fucking. Bastard.

“No back talk, Elizabeth. Apologize and say ‘yes ma’am’ like a good girl.”

“Sorry ma’am. Yes ma’am.” I ground out, staring at the floor.

I heard footsteps approaching me, as Candace leaned over me, kneeling down to get into eye contact with me, her empty glass in hand, saying nothing quite yet.

"Elizabeth."

I raised my head, looking up at Candace in confusion for a moment.

"You had better take good care of my brother for me." She smiled at me, reaching out to pet my head for just a few moments before returning to her seat, setting the glass down on the table. "What do you say, should we torment her a little more?"

That was....confusing. I blinked and looked down trying to process that. I was kinda prepared to have glass smashed on my face.

“Certainly~ Anything in mind? I’ve found she’s rather durable. Took a pounding with broken legs....cries prettily when upset. Her face when she’s overthinking? Precious. I think you’ll appreciate that.”

"I have something better in mind~" She set her feet on the table in front of her, kicking at the empty glass, watching it slide across the table towards me.

"Go get me a refill, and while you're out... fetch Rachel."

I took the glass and started back to the kitchen. It was a bit out of the way, but I deviated in my path to pass by Rachel’s room and knocked. I waited for a few moments, but when she didn’t open the door I just shrugged.

“Master Cyrus and his sister want you in the dining room.” There was a muffled response, so moved onto the kitchen.

When I came back all three people were in the room, and as I returned Candace her now filled glass my anxiety started mounting again. This had to be related to what she said earlier. To what Cyrus was talking about.

"Thank you, lab rat~" She snatched the glass directly from my hand this time, winking at Rachel a few seats away.

"Care to tell Lizzie here what you've been telling my brother and I?" Candace asked, her voice smooth and rising into an excited lilt at the end.

Rachel paused, watching me carefully. It wasn’t until I was on my knees again that she spoke up. “Everything she tells me I report to you and Mr.Griffin, ma’am.”

I swallowed thickly. No. I....I trusted her. She had to do it. To survive. Like me! I curled my fists and stared at the carpet. We were the same...

“Her likes, dislikes, hobbies, speech patterns, behavior for the day. What she says about Mr. Griffin when we’re alone....” Rachel ducked her head and I could hear the small laugh. “She has a lot to say about you, sir. She admires your body a lot when we’re alone. Almost as much as she complains about you.”

My face was burning and my jaw ached with that telltale feeling of needing to cry. I was an idiot. Of course she was loyal to them. Who paid her? Them or me? Well, I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me cry. They could crush me all they wanted, but I wouldn’t break...I won’t lose.

“She likes being owned. She loves it, in fact.” Rachel continued, the contempt in her voice growing. “The only constant complaints are her wishing for more sex or more domination. Otherwise, it’s mostly being sore or getting upset. One day she was a sobbing mess about upsetting you, sir.”

"God, that's so evil... I sure as hell won't be doing that with my slave if I ever get one~” Candace tipped her glass to Rachel before taking her feet off of the table. "I will say, though... Elizabeth. Sounds to me like you're very special indeed~"

She stood, making her way over to me and tilting my head up to face her once again. "I can read those little thoughts in your head street rat, you love being owned, don't you?" She gestured to her brother, smirking at me with fiendish delight. "Then why don't you give your Master and I the satisfaction of watching you cry?"

I glared at her as she taunted me, but it was hearing Cyrus laugh that undid me. I let out the first choked sob and turned to face him weakly. I wanted to ask so many questions as I stared up at him. I felt so pathetic and stupid. Why had I ever let myself trust _anyone here_? I saw what happened with Courtney. I saw what Cyrus and Phil and all of his goons _did_ to people. Why did I think I’d be different somehow? The little world of a happy, willing submissive with her best friend and doting partner was crumbling apart. Another sob clawed its way out of my throat. I was so, so stupid.

Cyrus was staring down at me, but he was talking to Candace. “Don’t congratulate yourself too much, sister. It was all thanks to Rachel’s wonderful acting skills. Though little Liz is special, isn’t she? Born to this life.” He purred the last part and I clung to the hand he held out to me like it was a lifeline. How had it come to this? How was Cyrus Griffin the only stable thing in my life? I swallowed and pressed my forehead to his hand and let go on my restraint. My entire body convulsed as I cried, tears pouring down my cheeks. The only noise I could hear was Rachel’s laughter as she watched me.

“Tell my sister thank you, darling. She gave me such a fun idea to play this little game with you.”

“Th-thank you, Miss Candace.” I whispered hoarsely.

"Don't mention it sweetie." She smiled, making her way over to me.

"Would you like a hug before I leave? Or should I leave you to your Master?"

I inched away from her and closer to Cyrus. All the contempt I held for this woman was replaced by sheer terror of some further betrayal. Master smiled softly and pulled his hand away to tug me closer by my hair. "On my lap, Liz."

I complied, sniffling and cowed. "While I appreciate the offer, sister, I rather want to kiss her tears away myself...Though if you do find a pet you like, I'd advise such little games you think up. They seem very effective. If you'd like I'll come play bad cop."

He rested his chin on my head as I cried into his shirt, scared to look at Rachel or Candace in case I saw their laughter. I couldn't take the humiliation. "You can ask Liz, I do excellent work. Quick, clean breaks~ Heal well, hurts like hell."

"I highly doubt that I will ever actually choose to get a slave." I could feel her eyeing me, even if I couldn't actually see her. Those pale red and blue eyes were _soulless_ as void of empathy and feeling as Cyrus’s stormy grays. "They seem like they're far more work than they're worth... besides, I'm internet famous, I can go out with any girl I want to anyways~"

"Awh, but slaves are so fun~" Cyrus purred in my ear, stroking my hair. I swallowed thickly, trying to focus on that instead of Candace's pale gaze on my back. "You can't customize those normal girls. Or torment them~ Slaves are much more fun."

"Yes, yes. I'm missing out I'm sure...." I felt her cruel gaze leave me. Thank fuck. One less mafioso staring down at me, watching my every move. "Anyways, I have to call it a day. Tallie and I have plans to meet and talk about some... business decisions~"

"Have fun!" Cyrus grinned, squishing me down on his lap and grinding his hard cock against me. I sniffled...He did always like me crying. "I don't send Phil and Rachel out for the new stock for another few weeks. By then I think I'll actually be able to give them a demonstration~ So exciting isn't it, Liz?" I nodded silently. Cyrus continued to pet my head gently. He pressed a surprisingly soft kiss to my forehead as I cried.

“Don’t worry, darling...I’ll never lie to you.” he murmured between kissing away the tears pouring down my cheeks. “You’re all mine, and I’ll never give you reason not to trust me.”

“P-promise?” I hiccuped. It was a stupid question, but the idea of reassurance in this ever shifting hell felt so good. I needed it.

“Of course. I’ll always be your Master. You’ll always be mine.” he rubbed my cheek with an affectionate thumb.

. . Ღ . .

My leg spasmed as Cyrus’s hips snapped into mine. I cried out, fisting at the sheets desperately. His well kept nails dug into my hips as he yanked me further back onto his cock, rolling his hips to grind against my cervix as I whimpered desperately in pain. My socked feet were scrabbling desperately at the floor to keep my footing, but it was hopeless. I could hardly get my legs to work, let alone support my weight. It’d been like this for an hour. I choked out another sob as my foot began to jitter and shake without me being able to stop it. My body was out of control. I felt so pathetically useless.

“Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.” Came the panted snarls as Cyrus fucked me. It hurt. It hurt so much. This wasn’t like our recent fucks. He was relentless, selfish, desperate. His nails clawed at my skin and his grip left bruises behind. “You are _mine_ , Elizabeth. Don’t. You. For. Get.” 

Each syllable was met with an agonizing snap of his powerful hips. I sobbed into the bed sheets. When he came, his teeth sank into my shoulder as he bit down hard enough to draw blood. I _shrieked_ in agony. It only seemed to spur him on as his nails broke skin. Cyrus rose up, panting softly as he stared down at me before a hand slid down to my overly sensitive thighs. His nails dug into my skin. It was like knives. I whimpered, squirming to get away, but instead he pulled me back onto his cock before flipping me over. His teeth dug into the skin of my neck, shoulders, chest, and stomach. Behind him was left a trail of blood and bruises.

“Who do you belong to, Elizabeth?”

“M-m-mh” I gasped, eyes rolled back and shuddering from the overstimulation and pain. “M-master! I..I belong to Master.”

His hips jerked forward, cock to achingly hard as he started up for the third time. I whimpered pathetically, crying as blood dribbled down my neck. Cyrus latched onto one of my nipples, both hands bruising my hips as he fucked me relentlessly. I clawed frantically at his hair, vying for any grip on reality. His hot breath poured over my sensitive breast as he sucked and lapped at my nipple. It was a sweet counterpoint to the searing pain of his fat cock stretching me open until it burned and having my cervix pounded. 

“Thank me for fucking you. For keeping you.” He snarled before biting down and ensuring another mark bloomed to life on my breast. “Thank me for owning you after you touched another, whore.”

“I-i-i’m so-or-ree M-ma-mas-ter!” I choked out between brutal thrusts, trying to look up at him. His face was a ferocious snarl, eyes burning possessively. I shivered in fear, a fresh burst of tears streaming down my cheeks. I had just done as asked, why was he so _mad at me_. “Th-ank yo-ooo for-for fu-uck-ing m-me! Fo-for for-give-ing me-me! I do-don-don’t de-serve yo-oo!”

One of his fists knotted in my hair as Cyrus jerked my head to the side to suck marks along my neck. He growled in my ear before crushing my lips in a kiss. My foot started up in its frantic twitching again as I writhed under the mafioso in agony. Cyrus snarled and began covering me in bloody bites and hickeys again. I panted and gasped for air weakly, unable to do anything but ragdoll for the man above me. When he came again, Cyrus crashed his lips against mine, hips stuttering as he pumped me full of cum. I moaned against his mouth at the feeling, eyes rolling back. I was so full. So stuffed. I could feel the cum oozing out of me, pouring onto the bed despite his cock’s best efforts to stuff me.When he pulled out, I was left torn apart and bleeding as his cum gushed out of me due to the sudden emptiness. I panted, staring at the ceiling and wondering what my life had become. What god had I spurned to deserve this? Why did I _want_ this? 

Cyrus cleaned himself up, apathetic to my wrecked body until he realized I was oozing on his bed. That seemed to raise mixed feelings in the man, simultaneously hard and ready to claim me again like some overly territorial dog while pissed I dirtied his sheets. He dragged me into place centered on the massive california king and baring his fangs as he loomed over me.

“You’re mine, Elizabeth. You’re _MINE_ and nobody will be able to mistake who you belong to.” He closed a strong hand around my throat, staring down at me icily. “You sleep in my nest. You bare my pups. You swallow my cock. Nobody else’s.” 

N-nest? Pups? I blinked up at Cyrus, not understanding as my vision blurred from tears, pain, and exhaustion. He sank his cock into my once more, going slower this time. He lips pressed kisses against my skin, hands massaging my breasts. I moaned, arching into him as Cyrus slowly, methodically thrust into me. I passed out to the feeling of his massive cock fucking me open and his mouth around my throat.

Cyrus Griffin was a possessive man. He did not share his toys well.

. . Ღ . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cyrus, stop traumatizing your slave with your weird fetishes, sir! I've been on a bit of an a/b/o kick the past few days and wanted to include it in some way. So Cyrus has a little a/b/o & breeding fetish. You're welcome. I know you never wanted this, but it's yours now I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> I like to imagine pre-teen Cyrus stumbling upon fanfic for the first time and being _so confused_ and it gives me life. I hope everyone is looking for further amusing reveals about Liz & Cyrus's individual fetishes and likes/dislikes, since I want to make "part two" more...personal.


End file.
